


30 Day Stucky Porn Challenge

by nothingamonth



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge, 69 (Sex Position), Amputee Bucky Barnes, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Asgardian Liquor, Beach Sex, Bisexual Howard stark, Blow Jobs, Body Image, Body Worship, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Discovers Hiphop, Bully (Sex Position), Butt Plugs, Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Catholic Guilt, Christmas Eve, Clothed Sex, Come Swallowing, Creampie, Crisis of Faith, Crossdressing, Deepthroating, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Disassociation, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Eiffel Tower, Elevator Sex, Facials, Feminization, Frottage, Fuck Or Die, Gay Bar, Horny Teenagers, Hotel Sex, Husbands, Intercrural Sex, Internalized Homophobia, Jealous Bucky Barnes, Kissing, Lace Panties, Light Bondage, Locked In, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Messy, More Horny Teenagers, Mutual Masturbation, Naked Cuddling, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Psychological Trauma, Public Sex, Quiet Sex, References to Illness, Religious Conflict, Rimming, Roleplay, Rope Bondage, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Roughness, Schoolboys, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sexual Harassment, Sexy Old People, Songfic, Steve's Spectacular Ass, Sweet/Hot, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Bucky Barnes, Valentine's Day, Voyeurism, Water Sex, Whiskey Dick, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:10:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 44,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8837101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingamonth/pseuds/nothingamonth
Summary: It is what it sounds like!  Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes screwing across decades!  All of these will be fairly short and set in the same timeline/universe, but because I have a penchant for 1930s Brooklyn, most of these will be retro-Stucky .  Porn, though!





	1. Day 1 - Naked Cuddles

**Author's Note:**

> These are the prompts I'll be working with:
> 
> 1\. Naked cuddles  
> 2\. Naked kissing  
> 3\. Masturbation  
> 4\. Blowjob  
> 5\. Clothed getting off  
> 6\. First time  
> 7\. Half dressed  
> 8\. Skype/Facetime sex  
> 9\. Against the wall  
> 10\. Doggy style  
> 11\. Caught/walked in on  
> 12\. Fingering  
> 13\. Rimming  
> 14\. 69  
> 15\. Sweet and passionate  
> 16\. Public sex  
> 17\. On the floor  
> 18\. Lazy morning sex  
> 19\. Outdoors (woods, park, garden)  
> 20\. Your own kink  
> 21\. Shower sex  
> 22\. On the desk  
> 23\. Trying a new position  
> 24\. Loud sex  
> 25\. With Toys  
> 26\. Can't make a sound  
> 27\. Rough (biting, scratching, etc.)  
> 28\. Role playing  
> 29\. With food  
> 30\. Whatever pleases you

The scrap of fabric that served as a shower curtain in the tenement’s bathroom always made Steve nervous. In the morning, the sun came through the grimy window behind the shower and cast a silhouette of whoever was in there, and the lock tended to stick. Steve tried to shower as quickly as possible when the door was acting up. Today, the bite of the winter air had warped the wood of the door jam, so Steve didn’t bother with the lock.

Quickly, quickly: face, armpits, feet. He was working on borrowed time and limited quantities of hot water. Steve turned his back to the door to wash his privates. No one had ever walked in on him bathing before, but he had a deep-seated fear of it happening—even more so when he was lathering up his bits.

Someone knocked at the door and Steve dropped his bar of soap. “Steve, you in there?” It was Bucky’s voice, thank God.

“Yeah, Buck! Give me a sec!” he shouted over the din of the water. He bent to retrieve his soap just as Bucky burst through the door. The brunet whistled.

“I had ta piss like a racehorse, but now I’m gonna have to wait for this lazy lob to go away,” he laughed.

“Buck!” Steve cried, indignant.

“I’m just teasin’, Christ.” Bucky’s belt buckle jangled as he undid his fly and leaned over the toilet. They didn’t have much in the way of boundaries these days, not since they moved in together. They’d been fooling around since before they knew what sex was, but this was the first time in their lives they were free to talk about it. Steve was still getting used to it.

Steve shut off the tap and groped blindly for his towel just as Bucky finished urinating. He dried his hair before wrapping the threadbare thing around his waist. “Buck, you didn’t lock the door, didja?” 

“Course I did,” Bucky replied, grinning that cock-sure smile that half-infuriated, half-charmed Steve every time. He rolled his eyes and twisted the knob with one small hand. It didn’t turn. The door was stuck. Steve swore under his breath.

“Welp,” Bucky said behind him, sounding not at all displeased. In fact, he clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together. “Looks like we’re stuck. Whatever are we going to do while we wait for rescue?”

Steve elbowed the other man in the ribs. Bucky yelped like Steve stabbed him.

“This is serious, ya know that? I don’t wanna spend my day off locked in the godforsaken bathroom!” Steve groused, plopping down on the edge of the sink. Bucky eyed him speculatively as he rubbed his side, his smile just touching the corners of his mouth.

“Can’t decide if you look like sex incarnate or a boiled chicken. Either way, I want my mouth on you,” he said.

“You have a real way with words, Buck,” Steve replied, rolling his eyes. Bucky was already sliding his suspenders off and dropping his trousers. A moment later, the brunet was as naked as Steve.

“What are you doing? We can’t do that here!” the blond hissed. His eyes dropped to the dark thicket of hair between Bucky’s legs, though, and the hardening cock nestled there. God, he could look at those that body and tanned skin all day long—just not in this bathroom.

“Course not. We don’t got lube. I can hold you, at least,” Bucky replied, gathering him up. Steve rested his cheek against the other man’s shoulder out of habit. Bucky’s growing erection prodded against his stomach; Steve was sure Bucky felt his against his hip. 

“I wouldn’t mind spendin’ my day like this,” Bucky mumbled into Steve’s hair.

“Mm, but we don’t got lube,” Steve reminded him with a smile. He dug his fingertips into Bucky’s ribcage until the other man laughed. The sound set Steve off on his own peal of giggles until they were both leaning on each other, gasping for breath.

“But really, Buck, how are we gonna get out of here without no one suspecting?” Steve asked, eyes dancing.

Bucky held Steve close to him while he studied the door, his gears turning. Steve was no good with mechanics, so he studied Bucky instead: the way he drew his lip into his mouth when he was deep in thought, the crinkle around his eyes when he smiled. He was so in love with him, sometimes he thought his stupid heart was going to give out. Steve curled himself around Bucky while the brunet took the door apart in his head.

“You think I could use a button from my trousers to unscrew the lock plate?” Bucky finally asked.

Steve, who was growing impatient and wanted to be in a room with Vaseline, sighed heavily. “For Christ’s sake, Buck,” he groaned. He stepped out of Bucky’s arms and attempted to stomp-kick the door open, but only succeeded in rattling it in its frame and stubbing his toes.

“Idiot,” Bucky snapped, stopping to put his pants on before hitting the door hard with his shoulder. It swung open, giving the “confirmed bachelor” Mr. Bledsoe a good view of a naked, cursing Steve jumping up and down on one foot. He stooped to collect his mail and entered his apartment, but not before casting a suspiciously long look in their direction. 

“Come on, twinkle toes, let’s go dirty you up again,” Bucky smirked.

Steve wrapped his towel around his waist in a huff, but followed him anyway.


	2. Day 2 - Naked Kissing

Bucky wrapped his arms around his skinny, emaciated body where he stood in the corner of the camp shower. The concrete under his bare feet was chilly, but the air was warm from the steam coming from the water. He hadn’t bathed since he was captured, and he desperately wanted to. How many times when he’d been stuck in that pen had he imagined the feeling of hot water sluicing the grime from his body?

But Steve was here.

But was it really Steve? The face looked like Steve’s, but the rest of him? Christ! He’d seen dames with smaller tits. Bucky watched him turn under one of the showerheads, letting the water run down his back. Steve pushed his wet hair out his eyes and tilted his face up towards the ceiling. 

Okay, and then there was that ass: perfect, round, more than two handfuls for a guy Bucky’s size.

 _Mm mm mm_. 

“You comin’ in?” Steve asked with that bright, crooked smile. Bucky still didn’t know where he stood with Steve now, but he stepped further into the room anyway. Steve turned on the tap next to him, and Bucky let his arms fall away from his chest as the water washed over him. It was heaven, the same way the trail of golden hair on the flat plane of Steve’s belly was heaven.

“Okay?” Steve asked him.

“Aces,” Bucky replied, slicking his hair back. He returned Steve’s smile without much enthusiasm, but quickly averted his eyes. Looking up at Steve was—weird. Everything about him was perfect—fuckin’ paragon of humanity over here—and Bucky was so sick, so beaten, so tired. And then there was whatever they’d done to him—

“Buck? You were kinda starin’ into space, there. Are you sure you’re— _we’re_ —okay?” Steve blinked through the water falling into his face. He curled into himself, stooping in an almost apologetic way. Bucky placed his fingertips against Steve’s chest.

“I bet you had every one of them USO girls fightin’ over you, huh?” His voice was barely audible over the water splashing on the concrete.

“It wasn’t—it’s not like that,” Steve replied, cupping Bucky’s face. “You’re the one I want. I mean, if you still want _me_ —“ 

Bucky rolled his eyes and let his hand snake down a little lower, brushing Steve’s abdomen now. The muscles fluttered under his touch. “You kiddin’, Stevie? You were beautiful before and you’re beautiful now, and I’m gonna miss the way your head fit on my shoulder, but you’re still you.”

Steve smiled softly and put his hands on Bucky’s hips. Stepping into his space, he laid his head against Bucky’s shoulder, even though he had to stoop a little to do so. A knot worked its way loose in Bucky’s chest.

 _This is okay. Everything is going to be okay_.

He pulled back a little, and when Steve looked down at him, Bucky bullied him into a kiss. His hands folded over the back of Steve’s neck; their panting breaths echoed in his ears. God, Steve was strong now. Bucky anchored his weight against the other man and Steve cradled him. And it was exactly what Bucky needed. He could drop the façade of the war hero, the sniper, the soldier, and just _be_. 

“Baby, I missed you so bad,” Steve murmured against his lips, pressing himself closer. Bucky could feel every inch of that delicious cock against his thigh, the arms like iron crossed over the small of his back. He moaned against those plush lips. A jolt went through Bucky when Steve slipped his tongue in his mouth. That taste was like coming home. The brunet let Steve plunder his mouth while he leaned back in his arms, his weight completely supported.

“I love you,” Bucky sighed, his lips brushing across Steve’s cheek. It was rough with stubble. That was—new. Steve’s erection pressed against the hollow formed by Bucky’s hipbone. He wondered what it would feel like for Steve to fuck him now. Before, Steve could barely finish before his lungs would give out, but now…?

Bucky whimpered as Steve put his hand against his cheek and briefly captured his lips once again. “I love you too, but you stink. You want me to help with that?” The blond flashed that rakish smile (the one that if he had turned it on a girl _just once_ , he would have had more dates than he knew what to do with), and Bucky relented with a nod. Steve’s smile widened as he took the soap he’d been using and began to work it into a lather. He used both hands to cradle Bucky’s face, his thumbs caressing the hollows of the brunet’s cheeks. His hands were as big as shovels now, but his touch was just as gentle as before as he ran them down Bucky’s neck, shoulders, and chest.

In between his careful ministrations, Steve dropped kisses on Bucky’s lips or whatever body part happened to be closest. By the time he was done, the water ran cold, prompting Steve to put his arms around the other man. The blond radiated heat like a campfire.

“I got my own tent,” he whispered into his ear. “Two cots.” 

“You’re gonna get us blue tickets back to the States,” Bucky laughed, exploring the flex of Steve’s muscles (Bucky’s brain stuttered at the thought) under his hands.

“Is that a no?”

“Fuck no,” he breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come holler at me if you want on tumblr: nothingamonth.tumblr.com OR my NSFW Stucky thing: stuckypuddles.tumblr.com. What do you want to see in this challenge? Let me know! Comments (even nasty ones) sustain me!


	3. Day 3 - Masturbation

A fly buzzed in slow, meandering circles by the window in Steve Rogers’s algebra class. Occasionally, it would collide with the glass with a soft plink and then start its journey again.

This was much more interesting than whatever his teacher was going on about. 

It was only a few weeks from summer vacation, and there was little hope of Steve paying attention to much of anything. First of all, it was so hot it was hard to breathe. The fan at the head of the class only moved sweaty, adolescent-hormone laden air from one place to another.

Steve lazily turned his gaze from the window to the front of the room. The students were arranged alphabetically by their last names, so Steve was near the back. Bucky sat third from the door in the front row. He was copying equations from the blackboard while sprawled behind his desk. His collared shirt was unbuttoned, his vest draped over the back of his chair. A drop of sweat tracked down the back of Bucky’s neck and disappeared underneath his shirt. 

Steve licked his lips.

He thought back to the time they were eight years old and, while they were under the less than diligent care of one of Sarah Rogers’s neighbor, had played a game that had involved them taking off their clothes.

And the time they were thirteen and had “practiced kissed” each other on Steve’s rooftop.

And when Steve had crudely jerked Bucky off last week. And how they hadn’t spoken since Steve had bolted out of the room. 

Ultimately, his Catholic guilt had gotten the better of him. At thirteen, he still had his innocence and naïveté. At sixteen, he no longer could afford that luxury. Good boys didn’t put their hand down their best friend’s pants and stroke their cock. They certainly didn’t lick the come from their fingers afterwards.

“Steven! The value of x! Do you know it?” the teacher snapped, slapping a ruler against the blackboard to get his attention. Steve whipped his eyes forward and stared at the equation.

“Uh,” he said, rather eloquently.

“Pay attention,” she scolded, and moved on to her next target. Bucky turned around in his seat to look at Steve. He knew he was blushing and could feel his shoulders creeping up around his ears. Bucky arched one brow and smirked before turning back around. Steve’s face grew even hotter. 

As soon as class ended, he ran from the classroom. The dismissal bell rang just as his feet hit the front steps and then he was flying home before Bucky could catch him. He made it to his apartment without incident. His ma was asleep still after working a night shift, so Steve let himself in quietly and closed his bedroom door behind him. Something like a sigh or a groan came out of him as he sagged against the door.

Once his heartbeat returned to a normal speed, he set his books down on his desk, stripped out of his shirt, and collapsed on his bed. It was so _hot_. He rolled off the other side of the bed and opened the window. A soft breeze cooled his sweat-damp skin. Steve closed his eyes and propped himself up on the pillows.

He didn’t realize he was thinking about Bucky until he was already hard. Shame and desire and such intense _want_ washed over him. His long lashes were damp with unshed tears as he unbuttoned his trousers and freed himself. Then he took a deep breath, spit into his hand, and stroked the length of his cock.

His thumb worked slow circles underneath the head of his cock as he thought of Bucky: the warm expanse of his skin, the dusting of dark hair over his chest and down his abdomen. He thought of the way Bucky’s head had fallen back when Steve had jacked him off. His eyes had rolled back in his head, and he’d bitten his lip as Steve had run his free hand up his ribcage. 

A quiet moan escaped him as he began to pump his cock in earnest. Bucky had made all sorts of delicious sounds: soft sighs and rumbling groans that Steve had felt under his hands.

“You want some help with that?”

The voice broke into Steve’s reverie and made him still. Bucky was leaning on the fire escape, grinning hugely. “You look goddamn beautiful, by the way,” he said.

Steve covered himself with his shirt as Bucky crawled through his window. He could die he was so mortified. His voice was caught in his throat; he could say nothing. 

“Is your ma asleep?” Bucky asked softly, putting one knee on the bed.

“Y-Yes,” Steve finally managed. 

The brunet smiled again and sprawled out on the foot of Steve’s bed. “Were you thinkin’ about me?” he whispered.

“I—Yes,” Steve repeated. It wasn’t like it was a secret.

“Mm, good,” Bucky replied, stretching like a cat. “You mind if I watch? I wanna see your face when you make it.”

“B-Buck—“ 

Bucky pushed the leg of Steve’s trouser up and placed a kiss on his shin. “Please? Next time, I’ll suck you off, whatever you want.” 

“Next time?” 

“Of course. You ran off before I could return the favor last time, but I caught you starin’ in school, an’ God, Stevie, I couldn’t wait for you to figure this out.” 

“So you want me to keep…this?” Steve asked in a small voice, squeezing his flagging erection. 

“If you’d be so kind,” Bucky replied in a posh tone, giving the other man such a guileless look that Steve laughed breathlessly. He met the other man’s eyes and went back to work.

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie, you are a fuckin’ wet dream, I swear,” Bucky sighed, surging forward between the blond’s spread legs. Steve let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan. His hand was a blur between his legs.

“That’s it, baby. You gettin’ close?” the brunet asked, looking away from Steve’s leaking cock to his face and then back again.

“Am now,” Steve panted.

Bucky kissed the other youth’s trembling thighs as he tugged his pants a little further down. Steve lifted his hips to help him and a drop of precome oozed over his thumb. The sounds that escaped him were soft and animalistic: “Ah, ah, _ah_ —“

The brunet’s lust-dark eyes met Steve’s. “You wanna shoot it in my mouth?” he asked.

Steve could only release an inarticulate whine as he clambered to his knees. In truth, the thought had never crossed his mind, but now he wanted it very much. Bucky dropped down on the side of the bed and opened his mouth. Steve let the head of his dick brush against Bucky’s lips and tongue as he crested higher.

“Come on, sugar, let me taste it,” Bucky breathed—and Steve tumbled over the edge. Streaks of come painted Bucky’s cheek, his lips, and finally his tongue. Steve’s breath caught in his chest as all the strength went out of his body. 

Looking like the cat that caught the canary, Bucky swiped a finger through the come on his cheek and popped it into his mouth. Steve moaned, even though he was spent. 

“Next time,” Bucky said, and the hard set of his eyes told Steve that it was a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come holler at me if you want on tumblr: nothingamonth.tumblr.com OR my NSFW Stucky thing: stuckypuddles.tumblr.com. What do you want to see in this challenge? Let me know! Comments (even nasty ones) sustain me!
> 
>  _The Value of X_ is referenced in this story. It's a great book by Poppy Z. Brite about childhood friends taking their friendship to the next level. Highly recommend.


	4. Day 4 - Blowjobs

The train lurched wearily toward Antwerp, its sluggish, barely-forward momentum reflected in the faces of its passengers. Steve was slumped against Dum Dum, lips parted, drool drying on his chin.  The rest of his Howling Commandos fared no better, all in various shambles around the train car.  
  
Except Bucky.  Bucky couldn't sleep.  
  
He shifted against Gabe and put his feet in Morita's lap, but he couldn't settle in.  His own ghostly reflection in the night-darkened window glared at him as if in recrimination.  Surely Bucky could manage something as simple as sleep!  And yet...  
  
His eyes drifted over to Steve's sleeping form.  The blond was huddled into his coat for warmth (the train was unheated, and even Steve's unnatural body heat couldn't compensate).  Dugan had his arm slung around Bucky's lover's shoulders, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.  No one would have cared if Bucky had been the one cuddled up with Steve, but he couldn't help but think they would find out somehow--that they would be too obvious, like a neon sign above their heads flashing QUEER.  So far, they had been discrete.  They were old hands at hiding it, but never in such close quarters with other men.

Bucky stretched out one foot towards the other man and placed it firmly against Steve’s crotch. His eyes flew open, and Bucky watched as he snapped to attention and took stock of the situation. Steve arched a dark blond brow and smirked as he shifted against the thick wool of Bucky’s sock. The brunet rubbed circles around Steve’s filling erection. Bucky just heard the other’s breath catch in his throat before Steve grabbed his ankle and gently set it on his thigh.

“ _Later_ ,” he mouthed, before closing his eyes again. Bucky heaved a sigh and stared up at the rocking roof of the train car.

They arrived in Antwerp after midnight. Bucky was first off the train, hopping into the cold with more energy than was probably warranted. The others lumbered off at their own pace. Steve was the last to disembark. They were staying on the outskirts of town, well away from the Nazi perimeter. The owner of a pub had agreed to hide them out in his wine cellar. The guys were looking forward to it (except Bucky, who needed to keep his perma-sober status a secret). 

Steve slipped his arm around Bucky’s shoulder as they fell behind the other men. “Horny?” he asked, his full, plump lips just brushing Bucky’s ear.

“God, you got no idea, buddy,” Bucky sighed. 

“What do you want me to do, baby? I’d love to put my tongue up your ass—“ 

Bucky groaned softly, staring up into the blowing snow above them.

“—swirl my tongue around the head of your cock. Your come tastes so sweet—“

“Stop it or I’m gonna blow my load in my fuckin’ fatigues, Stevie!” Bucky hissed.

“We’ll wait until everyone’s asleep, and I’ll let you fuck a national icon’s throat. What do you think?” 

“Fuck waiting!”

They made their rendezvous point, but slipped away almost as soon as the guys started drinking. They wouldn’t remember them leaving anyhow.

Even before they stepped over the threshold of the abandoned house they found, they were pulling at each other’s clothes. Bucky kept trying to capture Steve’s lips in a kiss, but the blond was being a tease, darting away at that first electric touch. Finally, Bucky wrestled him to the moldering hardwood floor and kissed Steve with unrelenting force. Steve opened up for him, sucking and biting at his tongue. His hands slipped up underneath Bucky’s coat and down the back of his pants, kneading his ass. 

“How bad you want me, baby doll?” Steve whispered. He arched his hips into him so Bucky could feel just how badly Steve ached him, which, in turn, made Bucky want him more. It was a goddamn feedback loop that Bucky never wanted to escape.

“I never wanted anything the way I want you,” he told him honestly.

“Stand up,” Steve replied, pushing Bucky away.

“Why?”

“So I can finger you while I suck you off, you dope.”

Bucky never got to his feet quicker in his life.

Steve unbuttoned Bucky’s slacks, licking his lips as he looked up at the other man. Then he tugged his pants down his thighs, just enough to expose him to the open air. The chill did nothing to quell Bucky’s arousal. He threaded his fingers through the blond’s hair, mussing it beyond repair. “You’re beautiful like this, on your knees,” he whispered. “I ever tell you you got the most gorgeous dick-sucking lips I ever saw?”

“Only every day since we were seventeen,” Steve replied. He gripped Bucky by the base of his cock and brushed the leaking head against his lips. When he pulled back, they were shiny from Bucky’s precome. 

“Holy shit, baby,” Bucky whined. “Quit teasin’ me.”

“Teasing’s half the fun,” Steve replied. He ran his lips up and down the other man’s shaft and shifted his hand so he could cradle Bucky’s balls. He rolled them over his fingers as he kissed the tender skin of Bucky’s erection.

“I’m gonna pop all over your face, you don’t get to work,” the brunet said breathlessly.

“As much as the thought turns me on,” Steve replied with a quirk of his brow, and took him in his mouth. Bucky cried out and let his head fall back on his neck.

“That’s it. That’s it, sugar. Oh, God!”

Steve bobbed up and down on Bucky’s shaft, slowly taking him deeper. The brunet wasn’t overly long, but he was thick. Steve sometimes felt like his jaw was cracking when his lips got down to the base. Spit ran down his chin and dripped on the floor. He used this to wet his finger before searching for Bucky’s entrance.

Steve’s tongue worked the underside of Bucky’s cock while his head nudged against the back of his throat. Bucky’s thighs trembled with the effort it took not to surge forward, and then Steve’s finger was inside him rubbing against that spot, and his head floated off his neck like a balloon. 

“Stevie, your throat is like goddamn silk. God, I can’t—“ 

Steve used his free hand to urge Bucky onward, to let him know it was okay to thrust into him. He continued to play with the scar from the other man’s circumcision with his tongue. Bucky gripped him hard by the hair and fucked into his mouth.

“Oh God, oh sugar, oh Steve! Suck me harder, baby, I’m so close—“ 

Steve obeyed orders like a good soldier and crooked his finger besides, sending jolts of pleasure through Bucky’s body. White flowers bloomed in front of his eyes as the reins of his control slipped. If Steve were less of a man, he would have had to back away. As it was, he took Bucky to the hilt and swallowed every last drop of come when he climaxed—as much as he could, anyway. Some dripped down and added to the mess at Bucky’s feet. 

“ _Fucking—take it, you whore—!”_

Bucky collapsed onto his knees in front of Steve. The blond looked like a fucked out mess. His hair was sticking up every which way. Drool and come were smeared on his chin, and his lips were so red and swollen they almost looked painful. Bucky reached out and wiped at Steve’s chin with his sleeve. The blond pulled back with a slight wince, and Bucky heaved a sigh through his nose.

“Why’d you let me go to town on you like that?” he asked.

“Cause you needed it and I can take it.” Steve lifted his shoulder in a slight shrug even as his tongue slipped out to taste what was left of Bucky there. “I needed it too.”

“You didn’t come,” Bucky pointed out. Steve had the gall to blush as he moved the hand resting in his lap aside to reveal a damp stain on the front of his slacks. Bucky laughed dryly and rested his forehead against the other man’s.

“I’m sorry I called you a whore,” he said.

Steve smiled, his lashes fanning across his cheeks as he averted his eyes.  At once, he was both the angel and the whore.  “So long as I’m yours.” 

“Mine and no one else’s.” Bucky grinned widely and kissed the other man, tasting himself there. He could think of nothing better: the taste of both of them in his mouth. He thought he could die happily with this memory in his head. 

It was something that could never be taken from him, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come holler at me if you want on tumblr: nothingamonth.tumblr.com OR my NSFW Stucky thing: stuckypuddles.tumblr.com. What do you want to see in this challenge? Let me know! Comments (even nasty ones) sustain me!
> 
> Sorry if this felt rushed, because it totally was. Work is crazy with Christmas coming up!


	5. Day 5 - Clothed Getting Off

Science was both Steve's favorite and worst class for the same reason: Bucky Barnes.  It was the only class where they not only got to choose their own seating arrangements, but also sat in double desks--a setup that practically set Steve up to fail. How could he focus with Bucky's thigh pressed against his own? Or with the scent of his cologne and pomade filling his nose? It was impossible to focus on cell biology under these conditions, really unfair.  
  
His concentration had only gotten worse since that warm afternoon when Bucky crawled through his window.  The summer had been spent getting reacquainted with each other's now almost-adult bodies, and once school was back in session, Steve had been dragged into his fair share of broom closets.  
  
Bucky had proved he didn't need to listen to a biology lecture to pass his tests and spent the majority of the hour tormenting Steve instead. They were seated in the back row, well away from the teacher's prying eyes. She had been keeping a closer eye on the two of them when Steve started getting mediocre scores on his exams, despite being an above average student. The only reason he passed at all was because Bucky generally filled him in on what he missed, and, in dire situations, whispered answers in the blond's ear.  
  
Today was shaping up to be one big dire situation.  
  
Mrs. Bancroft was in a mood, firing questions at any student she caught gazing out a window or doodling in their book (as was Steve's wont). He was desperately trying to pay attention, but something about the soft beat of rain against the window and Bucky's heat beside him lulled him into a near comatose state.  
  
Perhaps it was because he hadn't slept much the night before. He never did when his ma worked night shifts these days. _For whatever reason_. Steve glanced at Bucky's smirking profile and glared. How dare he look so perfect and fresh after what they got up to last night? Steve had seen dead raccoons in the gutter that looked better than he felt.  
  
Next time, Bucky was definitely gonna fuck him, not the other way around.  
  
Steve's attention drifted in and out of the lecture. He was beginning to wonder if any high school student in the history of mankind had ever given a shit about cellular mitosis when Bucky's hand landed on his thigh.  
  
He stiffened. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Nothin'. Pay attention. This is important stuff," Bucky laughingly scolded, even as he moved his hand higher.  
  
"Buck!"  
  
"Is there a problem, Mr. Rogers? Something you'd like to share with the class?" Mrs. Bancroft asked. Her plucked-thin brows were arched; the puckered set of her mouth promised vengeance.  
  
"No. Sorry, ma'am."  
  
"Then let's try to stay focused, shall we?"  
  
A snort of barely suppressed laughter from beside him had Steve's cheeks burning brighter. He was going to kill him as soon as this class was over; he swore it.  
  
Bucky shifted slightly in his seat and feigned interest in his textbook. Steve jiggled his thigh to dislodge Bucky's hand, but if anything, he clamped down harder.

"We're gonna get caught," Steve warned him through gritted teeth.  
  
"Not so long as you shut up," Bucky replied in a soft, lilting tone. His eyes faced ever forward. He repositioned his hand so that it covered Steve's cock, which, like the goddamn traitor it was, responded to the other's touch. Steve curled his hands into fists on top of the desk and swallowed his gasp of surprise. Bucky slowly massaged him through his trousers.  
  
"During prophase, the cell prepares to divide by tightly condensing its chromosomes and initiating mitotic spindle formation..."   
  
Steve swallowed audibly as Bucky outlined the head of his cock. He could feel it drooling against his leg. His heart was slamming against his ribs; at any moment, one of their classmates could glance over and see what Bucky was up to. If Steve got his ass kicked before, just wait until they heard Bucky Barnes jerked him off during Biology class.  
  
Steve didn't realize that he had let his attention visibly slip, and Mrs. Bancroft zeroed in for the kill.  
  
"Steven, what's the next step in mitosis?" she asked.  
  
Bucky didn't stop; in fact, he used his whole palm to rub him, balls and all. Steve shuddered and dropped his head.  
  
"Steve?"  
  
"M-Metaphase?" he stammered.  
  
"Good. And what happens during metaphase?"  
  
Strong fingers wrapped around him and squeezed. He hid his moan with a cough. Bucky leaned in and whispered, “The chromosomes become attached to the spindle fibers.” 

“The—chromosomes attach—to the—spindle fi- _HAI_ -bers!”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” Mrs. Bancroft said dryly, and moved on. Steve looked down at the spreading stain on his trousers as he tried to catch his breath. The bell rang to dismiss the current period, and Bucky slapped Steve on the back. 

“ _Not_ funny, Buck! Now I have to go home to change,” Steve whined. 

Bucky leaned back in his seat and folded his arms behind his head. He looked insufferably smug, like it was some grand achievement, making an eighteen-year-old come in his pants. 

“Your next period is gym, right?” he asked. “Go change and I’ll run to your apartment for you. ‘S only fair.” 

Steve softened a bit. “You’ll miss history,” he pointed out.

“You’ll catch me up.” Bucky grinned.

“Still not funny,” Steve snapped, gathering up his books so that he could use them to hide the stain. 

“I’m not laughing. It was hot as hell.”

The blond regarded the other man skeptically.

“Okay, okay, it was pretty funny, too.”

Steve swatted Bucky on the shoulder with his notebook before leaving him laughing in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come holler at me if you want on tumblr: nothingamonth.tumblr.com OR my NSFW Stucky thing: stuckypuddles.tumblr.com. What do you want to see in this challenge? Let me know! Comments (even nasty ones) sustain me!
> 
> I know this one was short. I mentioned last time that work has been garbage for me, but it should let up now.


	6. Day 6 - First Time

Bucky didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground, but he knew Steve.

Story of his life, really.

His memory--and his sense of humor--returned to him sporadically, in fits and starts, but most of the time his mind was blank. He operated on a sort of autopilot ever since he pulled Captain America out of the Potomac and went rogue from HYDRA. He ate; he slept (kind of), but he wasn't really there in any significant way. Dimly, he was aware Steve (the man, in his mind) must be looking for him. He knew that was something the man would be compelled to do.

He didn't know what to do with that information, either.

Bucky took shelter from the brutal New England winter in a building in Brooklyn that felt right. It was a crumbling piece of shit with no power or running water, but he didn't want to be anywhere else. Today, a lady at the Salvation Army gave him a navy blue peacoat (some Williamsburg cast off with a torn lining), a blanket, and a little bag of hygiene items. He wandered around the little apartment with the blanket in his arms, searching for the right spot to lay down, like a dog. When he circled around for the third time, he finally found it: the single bedroom underneath the big picture window (now boarded up), with his feet extended toward the door.

The bathroom, he thought. The bathroom was wrong, and it was throwing him off. It didn't belong, though he couldn't explain why an apartment wouldn't have a bathroom.

He spread the blanket on the floor and curled up in it, coat and all. It was still achingly cold, but he felt safe here. Like he had been warm once.

Every time Bucky tried to conjure memories from Before, he inevitably returned to the atrocities he committed After, so it was best to keep his thoughts carefully blank. The last time he allowed himself to dwell on the past, he had spiralled into a pit of self-loathing so complete he had tried to remove his prosthetic arm with a hunting knife. The feeling of not being completely in control (again) had frightened him so badly that he tried to avoid remembering anything.

He just was.

It was snowing; Bucky could smell it in the air beyond the stench of the mouldering apartment. His metal arm was freezing to the touch, even though he had it tucked under his body for that exact reason. He felt ineffably sad, but he couldn't think why. All the little shops outside his apartment were decked with lights and garlands, and he knew that he knew what that signified, but it was lost somewhere in the haze. He didn't chase it.

So there Bucky was, sleeping on the floor of the dilapidated apartment he had once shared with Steve Rogers on Christmas Eve.

Not, of course, that he knew any of that.

Now, Brooklyn was never really quiet or still, but a hush fell over the city at around two in the morning. Bucky was asleep. His breath fogged the cold metal of his bicep, which he was using as a pillow. He'd let his guard down for once; the part of his hind brain that was still functioning told him it was safe. He could rest here.

He didn't hear the footsteps coming up the stairs, or the sound of his meager barricade being pushed aside as someone entered.

He didn't awake when the familiar footsteps approached, or when gentle hands brushed the greasy hair from his face.

Because part of him expected Steve to be there.

Bucky only opened his eyes when an unfamiliar sound reached his ears: the sound of soft, masculine tears right beside him. Only years of training kept him from reacting violently.

But he knew that face, obscured though it was by darkness and pain.

"I know you," he said. His voice was ragged from disuse.

"Of course you do. We've known each other our whole lives," Steve replied bitterly.

Bucky considered the thought before letting it go without too much investigation. He trusted this man, whoever he was. He accepted that he wasn't his target, but the particulars were a mystery.

The man touched Bucky's rugged cheek, and once again, a voice inside of him whispered, "This is how it's supposed to be." So he closed his eyes.

A moment later, the man curled up beside him. He was so warm.

Steve. His name was Steve.

He said the name softly and buried his face in the man's chest. His scent triggered a whole other set of memories. Steve clutched at Bucky's threadbare coat as he cried.

Bucky, unable to really grasp why Steve was crying, toyed with the hem of the blond's shirt. He knew this was allowed. Welcomed, even.

He'd done it before.

"Steve. Why are you here?" Bucky asked. It was an easier question than "why are you crying?"

"Because I knew you'd come here. Because it's Christmas and I don't want to spend another one without you," Steve explained, gently carding his fingers through Bucky's hair. It felt good.

"I know about Christmas," he replied.

Steve's eyes filled with fresh tears. "What else do you know about?"

"I know," Bucky said slowly, slipping his fingers underneath Steve's shirt--just enough to feel the warm skin of his abdomen. "I know I did this. I touched you. You liked it, I think."

"Yes," Steve replied.

"We lived here together. We were warm. Safe."

"This was our home," Steve confirmed. "Keep going."

Bucky's brows furrowed. So far, his brain hadn't wandered into the After, but it was there, hovering. "We made love. On the bed that was here. You were smaller, though." He closed his eyes and could see it clearly: Steve lying between Bucky's spread thighs, hands braced on either side of the brunet's head. His eyes, the color of water, staring down into his as he thrust, panting, into Bucky's body.

"We loved each other," he concluded.

"Yes, we did. I hope we still do," Steve replied, kissing him lightly on the lips. Bucky was taken aback. In his mind, no one had ever kissed him.

"I want that. I want to make love to you. Am I allowed to want?"

Steve peppered his face with kisses so soft they might not have been. "Of course, baby. You can want whatever you like. But are you sure?"

"I think it's been awhile since I...made love," Bucky admitted. He didn't know it, but a ghost of his sheepish smile showed on his face, melting Steve even more.

"It'll be like our first time again. We can start over. Whatever you want," he said, smoothing Bucky's hair back.

"Whatever I want," Bucky repeated. Suddenly, he wanted a great number of things. He wanted to be warm, but he didn't want to leave this place. He wanted to be closer to Steve. He wanted there to be fewer layers between them. Bucky pushed Steve's shirt up higher, letting his fingers dance over the hard play of muscle there. He very pointedly did not touch Steve with his metal hand; he knew how cold it could get.

Steve gasped anyway, but it didn't sound like a bad gasp. Bucky studied his face to make sure. The blond's lips were parted, his eyes hooded as he looked back at Bucky.

"I don't remember much--about anything," Bucky told him, as if it weren't obvious. Steve looked like he wanted to ask a question, but Bucky cut him off by kissing him again. His arm twined around the back of Steve's neck as he drew him closer, pressing his thigh between the other man's legs against his groin. Bucky felt the first stirrings of arousal in decades.

Steve broke the kiss by slightly turning his head. "Do you remember shooting me?"

"It's hazy," Bucky sort-of lied. It happened After, and he didn't want to think about it.

"How long has it really been since you've done this?"

"What year is it?" he asked with a cheeky grin. But it faltered. "I don't know. I guess since whenever the last time we did it. Please, no more questions. Not right now."

Bucky kissed him, swinging one leg over Steve's hips so that the blond was forced to lie back as Bucky straddled him. He unbuttoned Steve's jeans, and the other's hands fell to Bucky's hips underneath his coat.

Once he had Steve semi-nude, Bucky experienced a rush of desire so powerful it left him dizzy.

"This is going to have to be quick," Bucky admitted.

"May I?" Steve asked, placing his palm over the front of the brunet's trousers. Bucky nodded, and Steve unzipped his fly and tugged them down, exposing his rock-hard erection. Bucky groaned. He didn't know he could make noises like that.

Steve spit into his hand and wrapped his fingers around both of their cocks. "Move with me, baby," he urged, arching his hips. Bucky groaned again and buried his face in Steve's shoulder. With his scent in Bucky's nose and his flesh against Steve's, Bucky could lose himself in the Before. A thousand snapshots of Steve flew through his brain: just out of the shower, naked on the bed, wracked with pleasure, staring softly at the moon from their bedroom window. There was so much. Bucky's hips rutted against the other man's. A strangled sound escaped Steve's throat. Bucky didn't know if it was a moan or another sob.

"I'm close," Bucky told him. When he looked down at Steve's face, he saw him from a different times and places at once. It was overwhelming and terrifying and perfect...

"Let go, baby doll; I've got you. I've got you," Steve gasped.

Bucky came with a soft sigh, spilling himself on Steve's stomach and chest. He must have whited out briefly; he didn't know if Steve came or not. The next thing he knew, he was wrapped back up in the blanket and cradled against Steve's chest.

"Merry Christmas, Buck," he mumbled against his hair.

"You too, Stevie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was my slightly atypical approach to a first time story. Sorry if it wasn't what you expected.
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr: nothingamonth.tumblr.com or stuckypuddles.tumblr.com.


	7. Day 7 - Half Clothed

Steve perched on the dresser that doubled as a TV stand in the shitty motel room he and Sam had rented after Bucky's little outburst. Psychotic break. Whatever. The man was sitting on the edge of the bed studying the fingernails he didn't have on his left hand. Gone was the lost, willful ignorance Steve had seen last Christmas. Bucky looked like a man who was fully aware of what he'd been and hated it.

Steve had awoken Christmas morning alone with come drying on his chest and a note scrawled on the inside of a toothpaste box: "I love you but I'm not here. Next time. BB." He'd been angry, but he understood. Then Bucharest happened. On the one hand, he was overjoyed to have Bucky back with him; on the other, it was kind of a shitshow.

"What now?" Bucky asked his metal hand, glancing at Steve from under his eyebrows. There was a heartbreaking vulnerability in the storm-blue eyes that had Steve clenching his jaw.

"Now I set whoever comes looking for you on fire," he answered. Bucky's brows shot up.

"Not sure I'm worth all that," he muttered, returning to his strange grooming fixation. Steve recognized it as a nervous habit; Bucky's shoulders were practically around his ears.

Steve threw his hands up in the air in a rare show of frustration. "I am tired of people talking about the person I love like he's a criminal! Even you!"

Bucky gave him a wide, slow (but sad) grin. "I am a criminal, Steve."

"No," he said firmly, throwing himself down next to Bucky with his arms folded over his chest.

"Well, if Steve Rogers has spoken," the brunet snorted.

"I have," Steve confirmed.

"Stubborn," Bucky replied, a genuine smile touching the corners of his lips. Steve turned to him.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Kind of a loaded question there, Steve." Bucky ran his fingers through his hair. Steve wanted to be the one to do that, but he hesitated to touch the other man. He still had the note in his wallet, but he couldn't bridge the gap between them.

"If you're asking if I'm better'n the last time you saw me, yeah, sure. I was a fuckin' mess. If you're asking if I'm the same guy you knew in 1939..." He shrugged and shook his head.

"I know you ain't the same guy," Steve replied. The longer he spoke to Bucky, the more Brooklyn slipped into his voice. Bucky was now plucking at one of the plates of his wrist. Steve grabbed his hand and planted a kiss on his metallic palm. The brunet jerked away like he'd been burned.

"Don't. Don't touch it," he said, planting his hand behind him.

Not to be deterred, Steve shifted his weight, put his hand on the other man's opposite hip, and kissed him. Bucky froze--and quickly melted underneath him. He threaded his fingers through Steve's hair and moaned into his mouth. Steve was already straining against his jeans.

He ran his thumb against Bucky's abdomen, glad that he'd put on some weight. He was solid. Present.

_I love you, but I'm not here._

He was here now, though. Bucky was here and licking into his mouth and shifting between his legs and pushing Steve into the mattress. From the telltale hardness pressing against Steve's hip, Bucky was happy to be here.

Steve grabbed the hem of Bucky's shirt and went to pull it over his head.

"No," he growled, knocking Steve's hands away. The blond man blinked, and then it clicked: Bucky didn't want him to see his arm.

"Okay, okay," he soothed, running his hands down his back instead. It hurt that Bucky didn't want Steve to know every part of him, that he had lost the simple abandon that Steve remembered from the man before the ice.

"Can I take your pants off, at least?" Steve asked, waggling his brows. He was rewarded with a soft laugh from the brunet.

"By all means," he replied, rearing back on his knees to push his jeans down his hips. Steve drew his lower lip into his mouth as he took in the thick thighs, thick cock, and full balls. "Fuckin' beautiful, Buck." He shook his head once. He could hardly believe how goddamn gorgeous he was. Bucky was already pulling at Steve's clothes, determined, it seemed, to get him naked as day. Steve cast a forlorn look at Bucky's shirt, which stayed put.

"Beautiful," Bucky echoed, tracing the lines of Steve's pecs with his fingers. One set was warm, the other quite cold. Steve hardly minded. It'd been years since he'd been touched, and he wouldn't have cared if Bucky had a goddamn hook hand--

The brunet grasped Steve's dick in one hand while he toyed with his nipple with the other.

"I've wanted this. Dreamed about this," Bucky said, and slipped to the floor between the other man's knees. He glanced up as Steve lifted himself to his elbows, locking eyes with him for just a moment before wrapping his lips around Steve's cock head.

It was like getting shot. The air whooshed out of Steve's lungs as his hands twined in Bucky's long hair.

"Oh god, oh Buck--"

Drool dripped down Steve's shaft as Bucky took him deeper into his throat. His tongue worked the sensitive spot under his glans, cheeks hollowed out as Bucky's head bobbed up and down on Steve's cock. After a moment, he pulled off with a faint pop.

"It's been so long I don't know how I want it. Do I let you come in my mouth and swallow what you give me to swallow, or do I let you paint my insides with it?" Bucky walked his fingers up Steve's trembling stomach.

"Or do you want me inside you?" he asked, eyes dark, brows drawn low.

Steve moaned dumbly and rolled onto his stomach. He barely had time to get his elbows and knees underneath him before Bucky was grasping his hips and spreading his ass, his tongue seeking and finding that tight furl of flesh and lavishing it with all the attention it had missed for so long.

Steve might have said something blasphemous.

Bucky used the hotel-provided lotion to lube both of them up, by which time Steve was incoherently begging for him.

"Please, Buck--need you--god--"

"Easy," Bucky whispered as he petted Steve's lower back. The blond could still feel that damnable shirt between them, but a moment after Bucky slipped his fingers from his ass, the garment went sailing over Steve's head and landed on the bed.

There was a pause.

"You can look," Bucky said softly.

Steve turned his head and saw the mass of scars and metal that was the other man's shoulder. But Bucky was rubbing the head of his cock against his ass and Steve didn't care what he looked like; his concern would come when there was blood pumping to his brain again so he just said, "Fuckin' beautiful," and Bucky pushed inside him.

"Shit, you're tight. Fuckin' take me so good, baby," Bucky panted. He moved slowly until his balls were resting against Steve's ass, and then he withdrew and slammed back into him again.

Steve muffled his cry into the comforter, dimly aware that Sam might be able to hear them.

"I'm gonna fuck you hard now, but if it's too much, you tell me." Bucky was already starting to make good on his word, grasping Steve's hips for leverage.

"Sometimes I'd sit and just think about how you twitch and flutter around my cock. God, just the memory of you could make me come."

Steve grunted something that was meant to be commiseration, but the hard snap of Bucky's hips against his ass just made him stutter.

_Uh-ah-ah-ah-Je-sus-Christ!_

"I love you, Stevie. Don't let them take me back. Don't let them--ah!"

Bucky came and Steve went tumbling after. Heedless of the wet spot, they curled up back to front, so Steve still couldn't get a good look at Bucky's arm.

"I won't," Steve finally said. "I'll die before I let anything happen to you."

Bucky acknowledged him by squeezing him tighter.

* * *

 

In the morning, there was a note slipped under the door in Sam's blocky handwriting. It just said "RUDE."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A plot begins to form? No, probably not.
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr: nothingamonth or stuckypuddles.tumblr.com.


	8. Day 8 - FaceTime Sex

iPhone. Smart phone. Android. Samsung. Google Pixel whateverthefuck.

Bucky had no idea what the fuck anyone was talking about anymore. He was asleep during the birth of cell phones and he didn't have much interest in learning the particulars, but when Steve had shoved an iPhone in his hands on his way out of the Wakandan compound, Bucky had been obligated to try.

Steve was on some humanitarian gig in some other part of Africa Bucky had never heard of, but he'd wanted to "keep in touch."

Never mind how hard it was to operate a phone one-handed. What did all the buttons mean?

And they weren't even really buttons. They were "icons," Steve had told him in that gentle don't-scare-Bucky tone. He heard that one a lot these days.

"No, you can record five whole programs at once, Buck."

"You don't need to plug your phone into the wall to make calls. That just charges the batteries. It's actually wireless."

"Your data plan and wi-fi are two completely different things, you know."

Bucky supposed the part of him that was still a science fiction nut thought the phone was pretty neat. He could get in touch with Steve whenever he wanted--even when he was on the toilet, for example.

He'd just gotten out of the shower when Steve called him. A silly picture of his face popped up on the screen as Bucky fumbled with it. He was going for the answer button when his thumb hit something else. Suddenly Steve's (actual) face filled the screen, looking just as shocked as Bucky felt.

"What'd I do?" he asked, panicking.

"I dunno," Steve replied. "Maybe you hit the FaceTime icon or something." He arched his brows when he realized Bucky was naked and dripping from his shower. "Can't say I mind the view."

Bucky self-consciously slicked his hair back from his face after propping the phone up against some books on their desk. "Yeah, yeah. What do you want?"

"Just to talk to you. I'm on my way home and they got me shut up in this little private cabin. The stewardess hasn't been by since I told her I can't get drunk and I ain't interested in joining the mile high club."

"What's that?" Bucky asked. He sprawled out on a recliner not too far away, and from the slight flush on Steve's cheeks, Bucky determined he saw everything he wanted Steve to see--namely, Bucky's completely naked body.

"It's, uh, where you have sex on a plane," the blond man explained.

"Oh. Does it matter if someone's with you or not? I mean, say you were to just jerk off." Bucky tugged emphatically at his own dick, smirking. The future was kinda fun after all.

Steve's face got all big as he leaned in close to his phone. "Buck!"

"I had an itch," he replied. Just for good measure, he adjusted his balls as well, staring straight into the camera lens. "Just how private is this private cabin anyway?"

Steve looked around him. "Pretty private, I guess. Why? What are you up to?" He lifted a brow, but he was grinning.

"Up to?" Bucky repeated, stroking his cock. When he was fully erect (didn't take long), he moved his hand up to his nipple. "I dunno, Stevie, I just miss you real bad."

"Buck," Steve replied, "you're gonna drive me crazy."

Bucky went back to lazily masturbating, rubbing a little precome into the head of his cock with his thumb. Steve's heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. "You remember back when, I'd come home from the docks and you'd be asleep or sick... I'd get to thinkin' about you, the way I could get you so hot, the way you looked at me when you wanted me, and oh, Christ, the sounds you'd make when I finally got my hands on you."

Steve groaned, and Bucky guessed from the angle of his free hand he was touching himself.

Well, good.

"I'd sit on the couch and beat off, just thinkin' about you."

Bucky was really going at it now. He wished he had his other hand so he could put a finger or two up his ass. Instead, he squeezed his cock harder, threw his head back, and moaned. On his phone, Steve did the same.

Steve was breathless when he spoke. "I could hear you, the times I woke up. Sometimes, I'd rather listen to you get off and touch myself than interrupt." He angled his phone down and Bucky got a good eyeful of Steve's straining cock, freed from his uniform. Bucky imagined being there with the other man and impaling himself on that perfect dick. He loved Steve's body before and after the serum, but he was so glad that the experiment hadn't corrected that upward curve to his erection.

"I wish you were here," Bucky panted. His cock was dripping freely now.

"I wish I was too. What would you do if I was there?"

"I was just thinkin' how much I wanted to be speared on that cock of yours. I'm feelin' real empty inside without you here, Stevie."

"I know, baby. I wish this fuckin' plane would land so I could get up in you. You're so sweet and hot inside."

Bucky grunted and figured, "Fuck it," before he sucked on his fingers and eased them inside himself. He propped one foot on the recliner so Steve had a better view.

"Sweet Jesus," Steve swore. Bucky could hear the sound of the blond's hand working his flesh.

"You gonna come for me, sugar?" Bucky asked, fingering himself. He could just stroke his prostate from this angle, and if he arched his hips right, he was able to grind against his forearm.

"You first, asshole," Steve replied, but his voice was strained to the point of breaking.

"Be like that," the brunet snapped. He really started to hammer his prostate while rolling his hips against his arm. Steve was urging him on.

"Come on, baby. Give it to me. Let me see those eyes."

"Ah, shit, Steve!"

"Look at me, Buck. I wanna see," Steve begged.

Bucky looked up, his lips pulled back from his teeth, his brows drawn in effort. Steve looked back at him through hooded eyes. His cheeks were flushed and his lips swollen and pink from biting them. He was whispering Bucky's name over and over like a fervent prayer.

Bucky had the satisfaction of seeing Steve come first. He gasped his release, a drop of semen landing square on his chin. The sight finally rocketed Bucky over the edge. His release splattered against the seat of the recliner and dripped down his balls and fingers. Licking his thumb clean, Bucky approached his phone.

"You're right. These are useful. Hurry home, won't you, babe? I'll be waiting."

"Wait, Buck--"

But Bucky disconnected the call.

And dropped his phone on the floor and shattered it.

"Fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My name is Lou and I'm here to say, leavin' comments is the greatest way (of generally improving my day).


	9. Day 9 - Against the Wall

It was a good day for nineteen-year-old Steve Rogers. He had new shoes on his feet, a warm breakfast in his belly, and money enough for two to see the top of the Empire State Building. And it didn’t hurt that his best guy was by his side, sporting a new jacket and hat.

One of Steve’s paintings had sold big to some rich collector overseas. They had money to replace some of the things they sorely needed replaced, money for food, and even for some extras. Things were a lot better for them than it was for millions of other people. It was 1937 and people were dying in the streets. But Steve felt a bit like dancing.

As they walked down the sidewalk, his and Bucky’s hands occasionally brushed, which was as close to openly holding hands as they were going to get. “You look pretty slick, Buck,” Steve said, earning him an almost bashful smile from Bucky. The brunet slipped his hat off and ran his hand over his hair.

“You think so?” he asked. “Been a while since I had new digs.”

“Really,” Steve assured him, beaming. Sometimes he felt like a little kid running after Bucky, the differences in their strides were so drastic. “I mean, you always look slick,” he said, and then added in a lower voice, “except for when I’m finished with you. Then you look like rough trade.”

Bucky snorted while he grinned down at him. “You don’t do enough damage to leave me looking like rough trade,” he replied. “You should meet Lenny, this trick who works down at the docks. _He’s_ rough trade, Steve. Actually, maybe you should never meet Lenny, ever.”

“Don’t want me getting any ideas?” Steve asked. They were approaching the corner of Fifth Avenue and 33rd Street.

“No, I don’t want you to get sad,” the brunet replied, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulders. Steve smiled to himself and tucked himself further underneath Bucky’s arm before he forced himself to pull away.

“I’m not sad today. Today is a good day,” he said. “Look! We’re almost there!”

“It’s just a building, sweetheart,” Bucky reminded him.

“It’s the tallest building in world, Buck! A monument to Art Deco! People come from all over the world just to see it!” Steve gushed.

“You know, I heard one of the workers offed himself before they were done building it.” 

“Lots of people off themselves these days,” the blond man muttered. “Let’s just enjoy ourselves, okay?” 

“Okay, baby.”

When they stepped inside the lobby, Steve gasped. The gilt ceiling actually took his breath away, and he’d never seen marble so rich and extravagant. Normally, this kind of opulence would bother him, but this building was different. It was a testament to a better time, when even poor, sickly Irish immigrants (like Steve) and shit-kicking, midwestern transplants (like Bucky) could flourish in Brooklyn.

Steve looked at each piece of art on the walls, dragging Bucky along with him. “It makes me feel small,” Steve said, staring up at a metalwork mosaic of the building they were currently standing in. 

“Everything makes you feel small,” Bucky pointed out, patting the top of his head. Steve elbowed him in the side. 

“Let’s go up,” he said. They paid for the tickets to the observation deck at the front desk. Steve expected there to be an elevator operator, but when the doors opened up, the car was empty.

“Should we go inside anyway?” Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged. “I can operate one of these things, and we paid our money.” So they stepped inside. The brunet slowly turned the dial and the car began to move.

“Could you imagine living in a building with an honest to God elevator?” Steve mused, looking at his reflection in the brushed metal of the walls. He usually cringed from his reflection: he was short, delicate. His nose was too big, his lips too womanly. He’d gone down to the docks to walk with Bucky on his way back home, and he’d heard the things the guys had said about him.

Long story short, they thought he was a swish on a massive scale. 

“I just feel lucky to have a place where the toilet flushes most of the time,” Bucky replied. He was looking at Steve, but Steve was too caught up in his own reflection, pulling at his lips, fussing with his hair. Bucky slowed the car to a stop between two floors and went to him. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered into his hair. 

“I don’t want to be beautiful,” Steve replied, relaxing back against Bucky’s chest. “I want to be like you. Handsome, charming.”

“You’re that too,” Bucky murmured, his lips moving up the side of the other man’s neck. “You’re every good thing in this world, Steve Rogers.”

Steve shivered, tilted his head to the side, and braced himself with his hands against the wall.

“I wish you could see what I see when I look at you,” Bucky went on. He loosened Steve’s tie and dropped it to the marble tile at their feet. Steve made a small sound of protest, but allowed Bucky to unbutton his shirt and slip his jacket from his shoulders. 

“Look at you. Really look. Just because you’re not two hundred pounds of muscle doesn’t mean you’re not good. Not worthy.” Bucky put his hand beside Steve’s on the wall. “Look. My hands are rough and callused. They’re cracking from the salt water at work. My fingernails would be ragged if you didn’t trim them for me. Now, look at your hand: you got these long, elegant fingers—which look great when they’re jerking me off, by the way—and they’re gentle, and they’re kind.

“You have to drop this idea that being a strong man is about physical strength. It’s bullshit. You’re so much stronger than me, Steve. I’m scared every day that we’re not going to have enough to eat or we won’t be able to afford your medications. But you just keep going. That’s strength. That’s beauty.”

Steve turned in Bucky’s arms and placed one hand on either side of his face as he kissed him. “I wanna fuck you in this elevator. Is that okay?” he asked, biting at Bucky’s lips. 

“That was my plan all along,” the other man smirked, pulling off his hat and jacket. “I had to give the attendant five dollars to let me operate the elevator.”

“Prick,” Steve laughed, leaning up on his tiptoes to kiss him again. Bucky shucked his pants and underwear off in one fluid motion while Steve fumbled with his belt. A moment later, they were naked except for their socks.

“I assume you brought slick with you,” Steve breathed. Bucky bent at the waist and grabbed something from his discarded pants. Steve took the small pot of Vaseline and placed his hand on the other man’s back, keeping him doubled over. He was faced with his own reflection as he slipped his fingers inside the other man. 

“You’re already slick,” he laughed.

“What can I say? I came prepared,” Bucky said, his voice muffled by his stance. His shoulders trembled with laughter.

“I suppose so. I guess we don’t have much time.” Steve greased his cock and steadied himself with Bucky’s broad, firm back as he slipped inside of him, easy as breathing. Bucky purred like a cat as Steve stroked his back and buttocks, just savoring the feel of the brunet’s tight heat around his cock.

“You make me feel so good, Stevie,” Bucky groaned. He lifted his head and arched his back, canting his hips so that Steve was forced to push inside him deeper. The blond man pressed his lips together to stifle a cry as he met his reflection’s gaze.

“Move, dammit.” Bucky reared back against his hips and Steve shook himself out of his reverie. Slowly, he thrust in and out of the other man, only briefly closing his eyes. He didn’t want to miss a moment of this. Bucky was looking at him over his shoulder, his eyes clouded with lust, mouth open and trembling.

For all his machismo, there was a softness to Bucky, just as there was a steel core in Steve. The thought spurred him on until he was slamming into him. The sound of their flesh colliding echoed in the tiny elevator car along with Bucky’s wanton cries. 

“Oh God, just like that! Don’t stop, Stevie, don’t stop, don’t—“ 

Steve grabbed hold of Bucky’s shoulder to get a little more leverage. He was already on his tiptoes, his thighs and calves straining with the effort. He wanted to fuck Bucky through the wall. He wanted to climb into him. He wanted to make him scream his name. 

He reached around and took Bucky’s cock in his hand. Steve timed his strokes with his thrusts (and what was this but dancing, really?), and Bucky’s noises became less coherent. With one long cry, Bucky came, his come splashing over Steve’s hand. Steve held out for a few more moments before succumbing to the clenching heat around him.

On the observation deck, Bucky hung from Steve’s shoulders like a drunk. Steve looked out over the city like he owned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cheated and did two in one day. Please don't murder me. If it helps, my cat's name is Stucky and he's a fluffball.


	10. Day 10 - Doggy Style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are the songs referenced in this chapter:
> 
> ["Baby Got Back"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kY84MRnxVzo)
> 
> ["Baby Got Back - Gilbert and Sullivan Style"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkJdEFf_Qg4)
> 
> ["Laura"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OhNQCT6myRw)
> 
> ["Lawdy Lawdy Blues"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HCkZLENxU8Y)

“Friday, play songs about butts!”

Bucky sat on the couch in Steve’s apartment in the Avengers Tower, missing him. Missing certain parts of him, anyway. Missing one part, specifically. When Steve was gone it really was a “hate to see you leave but I love to watch you go” type of thing for Bucky. That _ass_. A hundred years later and he still couldn’t get over it. He hadn’t had nearly enough time with Steve’s new and improved backside before he fell off that train.

The AI seemed to stutter at his request. Finally, a song that Bucky vaguely recognized as having a hiphop beat started playing, and he was hooked from the first line: “I like big butts and I cannot lie—“

The next hour or so was spent badgering Friday for covers and remixes of Sir Mix-A-Lot’s “Baby Got Back.” Bucky was absolutely delighted.

Steve, not so much.

“What are you _listening_ to?” he groaned as he stepped inside his apartment. His coat was folded over one arm, but his free hand was covering his ear. 

“My new favorite song, I think,” Bucky replied. “Here, maybe this is more to your taste. Friday, play the Gilbert and Sullivan version!” The filthy lyrics started again, but this time over a jaunty tune like the pictures they used to see at the cinema together.

“Very funny, Buck.” Steve threw his coat down over the arm of the couch. “ _My anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns, hon?_ ” he repeated. “I think this might have been disrespectful toward women even back in 1939.”

“I had to do some research on the lyrics. I didn’t know what it meant to ‘get sprung,’” Bucky admitted. “But you gotta admit, you’re little in the middle and you got much back.”

Steve blushed and slapped Bucky on the arm.

The brunet narrowed his eyes as he studied the other man’s strong profile. He was trying to determine how successful he would be if he attempted to get into Steve’s pants. Bucky had a pretty high success rate on that particular mission, but like any human, Steve had his off days.

The blond peeked at him sidelong through his lashes, and Bucky knew he was in.

“Friday, play ‘Laura’ by Charlie Parker a whole buncha times.” 

Bucky scooted closer to Steve, easing his arm over the other’s broad shoulders. “I’ve never been able to talk you into a striptease,” he said. Steve threw his head back with a scoff and shook his head.

“And you ain’t gonna start now,” he replied, even though he accepted the tumbler of brandy when Bucky handed it to him.

“You remember this song?” Bucky asked throatily, his lips just brushing Steve’s ear.

“It was playing in that bar outside of Zurich. I remember it was the first new song I had heard since I went overseas,” Steve replied. 

“And we snuck upstairs and danced.”

“I stepped on your feet,” Steve reminded him, turning his head. He blinked when he saw how close Bucky was, and then dropped his eyes to the brunet’s mouth. 

“I didn’t care.” Bucky closed the short distance between them, bringing their mouths together for just a moment, just long enough to taste the brandy on Steve’s lips. The blond pulled back, seemingly searching Bucky’s face for something. He must have found it, because he kissed Bucky again, his hands briefly carding through the other man’s recently cropped hair.

“Friday,” he said, “play ‘Lawdy Lawdy Blues’ by Ida Cox.” The cry of a lone trumpet over a slow, rhythmic beat filled the room, and Steve got up. “You want your striptease, you’ll get it,” Steve said, and the lights dimmed. Friday was a clever bit of programming after all. 

As Steve unbuttoned his shirt, a woman’s voice broke in.

“ _Tell me pretty daddy, what’s the matter now?_ ”

Bucky’s cock leapt against his thigh. He settled back against the couch as Steve pushed his hands through his hair. His shirt hung from his broad shoulders; he closed his eyes and furrowed his brows. He was trying very hard to give himself over to the music; Bucky could tell.

“ _You’re trying to quit me and you don’t know how._ ”

Bucky got up and joined him, placing his hands on Steve’s hips so that they were moving together. There was still space between them, which allowed Steve to unbutton his jeans.

“ _I’d rather be dead, buried in the sea, than have the man I love say he don’t want me._ ”

“Now I see why you picked this song,” Bucky whispered, helping Steve to ease his jeans down his hips. Bucky palmed his ass, the tips of his fingers stroking the downy cleft. “But I could never not want you.”

Steve opened his eyes and grinned at Bucky. He stepped cleanly out of his jeans and put his arms around the other man’s neck. When they were dancing cheek to cheek, he said, “I chose it because I like the idea of calling you my ‘pretty daddy.’”

“That’s it. On the bed, now,” Bucky replied, pushing Steve toward the bedroom. He swatted his ass when Steve turned to either tease or protest. 

“Nope. Bed. Now.” 

Steve laughed as he climbed up on their large sleigh bed. “Are you sure your anaconda wants some of this?” he asked. 

“You got the buns, hon,” Bucky replied, shucking his sweatpants and t-shirt. “I believe I can safely say that I am sprung.” 

“You sound very old and white,” Steve teased. His hand snaked up underneath the pillow, and he grabbed a bottle of lube. He let his hips sway side to side as he poured a healthy amount onto his hand.

“I’m both those things, remember?” Bucky wetted his lips. “I was born in Indiana. You’re lucky my ma let me hang around your paddy ass.”

Steve hummed as he rubbed his hands together, spreading the lube. Then he reached behind him and slid a finger into his anus. Bucky almost swallowed his tongue.

“I always wondered—if your ma—worried about that.”

“Think that would have kept me away?” Bucky whispered.

Steve added another finger. He looked at the brunet with his cheek pressed against the bedspread. “Feel free to join in at any time,” he muttered.

Bucky leapt forward, running his hands down Steve’s sides, his waist, his flanks, before pushing Steve’s hand away and replacing it with his own. The powerful ring of muscle gripped the digits of his right hand like a vice. So tight, always so tight. Thank God for Dr. Erskine.

“Have I told you how much I love you lately?” Bucky asked.

Steve muttered something into the blankets that he didn’t catch. Friday apparently did, however, because Ella Fitzgerald began crooning to them both. Always the romantic, Steve was.

Which was not to say that Bucky was not. He was just a little distracted by the delightful morsel that had presented itself so prettily just for him. He added a third digit, entranced by the way Steve swallowed his fingers up. Bucky toyed with his prostate and reveled at the rash of goosebumps that erupted on Steve’s skin, as well as the swift intake of breath that accompanied it. 

The blond lifted his head. “Are you jerking off back there? Get to it already!”

Bucky smirked and pulled his hand free before swatting Steve’s ass again. “You know what my dad asked, when he put two and two together about us?”

Steve frowned. It was not a pleasant memory to bring into the bedroom. 

“He asked me if paddy boys gave head as good as the girls. I said you did, but Christ, your ass is so much sweeter.” Bucky lined himself up and slid home in one fluid motion. Steve cried out and arched his back.

“I give fantastic head,” he grunted crossly.

“So just think how fuckin’ good this feels.” 

“Can’t feel as good as you inside me, Buck.”

“Enough with the banter,” the brunet growled. He grasped Steve by the hips and hauled him backwards, impaling him deeper on his cock. The blond yelped, rearing back on his knees. He let his head fall back against Bucky’s shoulder. He was holding him hard enough to leave bruises, but neither one cared. Steve was howling at the ceiling as Bucky bit the tender muscle between his neck and shoulder. Their animalistic sounds clashed with the lilting music piping in from overhead.

“Harder! I won’t—break!” Steve bit out.

Bucky thought he might. His mind, anyway. The way Steve felt and moved could drive any reasonable man insane, and Bucky was hardly that. Still, he did as Steve asked him and pushed him back down onto the bed, holding his head down as he drove into him hard enough to leave marks on his ass from Bucky’s hips.

That ass—that fantastic _ass—_

Bucky came so hard he thought he was dying, but then Steve was picking him up from the floor where he toppled backwards and patting his cheeks to make sure he was all right. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he murmured, knocking Steve’s hands away, “but I think my spine just came out of my dick.”

Steve dramatically glanced between his legs and scooped up a little of what was dripping down his thigh. “Nope, just the usual,” he replied, licking his palm.

Bucky groaned. “You are the devil.” 

The blond grinned. “Friday, play ‘Anaconda’ by Nikki Minaj, would you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This felt like pulling teeth and I have no idea why. I hope it didn't suck too much.


	11. Day 11 - Caught!

“Steve. Stevie, come on. You’ve got to get through this.”

Bucky patted Steve’s pale, sweaty cheek in a vain attempt to rouse him. He’d been asleep for a day and a half now. They were lucky that he was able to talk Steve into staying at Bucky’s parents’ house instead of Steve’s empty apartment before he got too sick to move.

Normally Sarah would be the one to nurse her son back to health, but she was in a tuberculosis ward upstate. Steve had nothing and no one, but Bucky wasn’t about to let him suffer alone. He’d bundled Steve up in his little bed in the room he shared with no one because he was the oldest and a boy besides. Sure, it was in the attic, but it was still _his_.

It was a good thing, too, because there was stuff up here that could get him arrested, the least of which were the sketches in Steve’s notebook.

Bucky petted Steve’s hair. He wasn’t Sarah. He didn’t know how to make Steve better. He could sing the same songs, rock him the same way, but he couldn’t make Steve _wake up_.

He crawled into bed with him and wrapped his arms and legs, which were so strong compared to Steve’s twiggy limbs. “Come on, baby. I need to see those baby blues. Wake up, would ya?”

“Five more minutes,” Steve grumbled, nuzzling Bucky’s shoulder. The brunet let out a sound that wavered between a sigh and a sob. He was disorientated, but he was speaking.

“No, you lazy bastard, you’ve been asleep for a day and a half. I’m gettin’ pretty bored of watchin’ you sleep.” Bucky had long since taken Steve’s clothes off. They were just getting soaked through with sweat anyway. He ran his hand down Steve’s knobby spine and let it settle in the deep curve of his lower back. God, Steve was thin. Painfully thin. His hipbones jutted out so far Bucky could hang Christmas ornaments from them.

Steve finally managed to pull back enough to look Bucky in the eye. His eyelids were droopy, his pupils blown wide from the codeine that kept him from coughing up a lung. “Tell me a story, like when we were kids,” he pleaded, curling his slim fingers in the thick wool of Bucky’s sweater. 

“Mm, okay, a story about what?” Bucky replied softly.

“One of your science fiction stories. But maybe with some romance.”

“Science fiction romance? Usually they’re not very romantic, Stevie. When they do have dames, they’re wearin’ skimpy outfits with chainmail.” 

Steve laughed softly, not hard enough to trigger another coughing fit.

“You wouldn’t look so bad in a silvery bather, you know.” 

The little blond rapped his knuckles against Bucky’s chest in a quiet rebuke.

“Okay, okay. So, on a planet far away, a world covered in trees and snow, there were two warring species. One were tree-dwellers, real light little things like birds or squirrels or something. They had hollow bones so they got hurt real easy, but they were smart. The others lived on the ground, but they weren’t as smart as the tree-dwellers. They were jealous that they lived so close to the sun and sky, so they would knock ‘em out of the trees and keep ‘em, kinda like pets when they caught ‘em.”

“Mm. Is this gonna be one of those stories that’s really about us?” Steve asked.

“Shaddup. You want a story or not?” Bucky asked. “ _Anyway_ , one time this little tree-guy, real pretty little fella, saw one of his friends gettin’ taken by a ground dweller. So he hops down and starts fightin’. Pretty stupid of him, considering. But his friend gets away, and the ground dweller, he’s pretty impressed with the little guy, but he can’t show it. So he asks him to come and live with him in his friend’s stead. The little guy agrees, ‘cause he knows he can’t take the big guy down. The big guy scoops him up and he thinks that the little tree-dweller is the sweetest, prettiest thing he’s ever seen. The little guy hates him, of course, but you know, there were sparks there.”

“This is gonna turn into one of your pornographic stories.”

“I’m twenty-years-old and my guy has been laid up for a week. I dunno what you expect outta me, Stevie,” Bucky replied. And as if it heard him, his dick woke up. Steve shifted against him and the brunet told himself he didn’t have an erection.

_Go away, go away, now’s not the time—_

“You’re hard,” Steve murmured, shifting again. He was doing it on purpose this time, deliberately rubbing his skinny thigh against Bucky’s growing arousal.

“Like I _said_ —“

“You want me to take care of you?” Steve lifted his eyes, which were more alert now, and brushed his long, tapered fingers over the front of Bucky’s pajamas.

“You’re sick, baby. It can wait.” He reached down and threaded his fingers with Steve’s, resting their entwined hands above the quilt. Steve sighed through his nose, too tired to argue. He kissed the cleft in the other’s chin, briefly flicking his tongue against the little dent.

“Okay,” he whispered, tucking his head under Bucky’s now thoroughly kissed chin.

“Want me to continue?”

“Yeah.”

“The big guy takes the tree-dweller home. He lives alone, so he’s real happy to have the company. At first, the little guy is really contentious. He stamps his feet a lot, but he doesn’t weigh much so the big guy doesn’t pay much attention. He tries to make him happy, though. Gives him the best food, the nicest clothes. But it isn’t what the tree-dweller wants. Justice is his thing. It’s not fair that his people are kept as pets. The big guy would give him anything, but he’s scared to free the little guy, because he doesn’t want to lose him.”

“Maybe if the ground-dweller does the right thing, the tree-dweller will appreciate it that much more because it was a hard thing to do,” Steve suggested.

“And maybe that’s what he does, punk. He lets him go. But the little guy stays, because after all, the big guy is handsome and really pretty debonair, don’t you think?”

Steve laughed again, squeezing Bucky’s fingers. “And the little guy, he’s handsome too, right?” 

“I said so. Sweetest thing in the whole damn world. So they do something that is never, ever supposed to happen.”

“They screw?” 

It was Bucky’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, but easy-like, because the little guy has hollow bones, remember? Only the other ground-dwellers find out.”

Steve grunted uneasily, a furrow appearing between his brows. “Skip to the end,” he said. 

“They lived happily ever after, of course,” Bucky answered. The blond let out a pained little sigh and tilted his head back. Bucky kissed him, tasting the codeine and cough syrup that he had administered himself. Steve licked at his mouth and Bucky opened up, letting him inside.

“I miss my ma,” he whispered against his lips even as he slipped his hand through Bucky’s fly. His nimble fingers stroked him until he was hard, but he was really just toying with him. It was a comfort to him, Bucky realized. And it didn’t hurt that it felt amazing; Steve knew just where to touch him, the exact moment to flick his wrist, when fingering the slit was too much and when it felt just right. 

“I know. I miss her too,” Bucky sighed.

Steve set his lips in a firm line. “I’m scared. Of being on my own.” He rubbed his thumb over the head of Bucky’s cock, smearing precome over the soft, velvety skin. Bucky’s throat clicked as he bit back a gasp.

“You won’t. You’ll never be on your own,” he said. 

The blond shifted to lie between Bucky’s legs. His hands continued to work him even as the hot breath from his words washed over his flesh. “You can’t promise me that. Even this is illegal.” He ran one finger up the vein on the underside of Bucky’s cock. “Everything is very—tenuous.”

Bucky pressed his cheek into the pillow and twisted his fingers against the quilt. Steve was right, of course. His mother or father could come up right now and they would have every right to send both of them to a sanitarium or prison. But why? It wasn’t fair. He and Steve loved each other. They’d never loved anyone else. They were hurting no one.

Steve took him into his mouth and Bucky whimpered. The wet heat of his mouth was almost too much, but again, Steve was just playing with him, gently suckling at the tip, rolling the flesh over his tongue. Bucky’s chest heaved as he threaded his fingers through Steve’s hair.

That was how George Barnes found them a moment later. The sound of the door hitting the wall startled Steve back up to Bucky’s side; he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and covered himself with the quilt. Bucky was almost too scared to move, but he managed to tuck himself back into his pajamas.

George stared into his son’s eyes for what seemed like a long time. Steve hid his face behind Bucky’s shoulder. His hands were clenched into fists.

“I won’t tell your ma. I won’t break her heart like that,” George said. He shook his head. His eyes, Bucky’s eyes, filled with tears of betrayal. Bucky blinked back tears of his own, dropping his chin to his chest. He covered one of Steve’s fists with his hands.

“Steven, I want you gone. You’re obviously _well enough_ that you don’t need my son as a _nursemaid_ —“ George nearly choked on his anger. His knuckles were white where he grasped the doorjamb. “If I see you step foot on my property again, I’m going to the police. The only reason I’m not doing that now is out of respect for your mother.”

Steve made a broken sound deep in his chest.

“James, we’ll speak in the morning.” 

He slammed the door behind him. Steve leapt over Bucky on the bed, stumbled and fell as he hit the ground. Bucky went to help him up, but Steve pushed him away. “This is my fault,” he growled, tearing his clothes off the back of Bucky’s chair.

“It’s nobody’s fault, Steve,” he replied quietly. “We didn’t choose this.”

“I shoulda been more careful.” Steve shoved his legs into his pants and nearly tore his shirt trying to get it on.

“We shouldn’t’ve had to be.” Bucky joined Steve on the floor and reached out to him. The blond jerked away.

“No. I knew it was wrong but I wanted it anyway. I shouldn’t have pulled you into this.” Finally, Steve let the tears slip over his lashes. He finished dressing and went for his shoes, but he was out of breath and wheezing.

“Bullshit. You didn’t pull me into anything. I want you as much as I hope you want me. _There’s nothing wrong with us_.”

“Bullshit,” Steve echoed. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his too-thin arms around them. Bucky was determined to hold him whether he wanted it or not, so he did—draping himself over his back from behind. Steve didn’t shrug him off this time.

“I’ll walk you home,” he murmured against his hair, “and I’ll stay with you. I’ll come back and talk to Dad tomorrow. It’ll be okay, sweetheart. He’ll come around.”

“I’m sorry, Buck, I’m so sorry. _I’m sorry_.”

“Don’t be sorry. Come on. I got money for a cab.” He kissed the top of his head and pulled him to his feet. “I made you a promise. You don’t ever have to be alone.” 

Steve lifted his head and, with a look of weary resignation, nodded his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little dark and depressing, but I'll make up for it tomorrow (hopefully--no ideas yet). I feel a lot of empathy for Steve (and Bucky too), dealing with long term illness myself and the thought of always being a burden, especially to the ones closest to you.
> 
> In this version of reality, Bucky has had a more secular background and isn't quite as trapped in the mindset that sex (including homosexual sex) is dirty. Steve is a second generation Irish immigrant, so obviously this would be more ingrained. (I'm a third generation Irish/Italian immigrant and a transman, so I know those feels, dude.)
> 
> So this one was a little personal, is what I'm saying.
> 
> Notes appreciated, of course.


	12. Day 12 - FINGERIN'

“I’m just saying, God must have planned for gay guys, otherwise he wouldn’t have put the male g-spot up his butt,” Tony said over coffee.

The other members of the team groaned while Steve carefully sipped his coffee. It was a good point, really, one that deserved more thought when he wasn’t so tired. They had just gotten in from a peacekeeping mission in the Balkans. It was six in the morning, but they were all too wired to sleep just yet.

Bucky hadn’t gotten the all-clear to join them on missions, so he had stayed in the tower, ostensibly “holding down the fort,” so he wasn’t present at the impromptu breakfast/dinner.

“Straight guys put things up their butt too,” Clint pointed out. “It’s not like gay guys have a monopoly on butt stuff.”

“You would know,” Natasha said quietly, hiding a smile behind her coffee mug. Clint sputtered.

Steve took another bracing swallow of coffee. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe people in the future talked so openly about their sex lives. He didn’t recall being so open even around his other queer friends in the thirties.

“That was _one_ time, Nat, and I didn’t even have one of those mystical prostate orgasms everyone goes on about,” Clint grumbled.

“I _have_ heard they’re much stronger than the typical male orgasm,” Bruce mused.

“You can say that again,” Steve sighed. 

Everyone stopped and turned to stare at him.

“What?” he asked. 

Clint shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Honestly? I just sort of assumed you were a virgin,” he said.

Bucky chose that moment to walk into the kitchen in a pair of low-riding sweatpants and one of Steve’s a-shirts. He caught Clint’s comment and snorted. “Yeah, right. _He_ taught _me_ how to suck dick.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and plopped down beside Steve, who was now blushing furiously. Tony guffawed. 

“This is too good,” he said. 

“Why would you assume I’m a virgin? People had sex in the thirties, you know. And I’m almost thirty years old,” Steve protested.

“So you and James are lovers, then?” Bruce asked.

“Goin’ on eighty years now,” Bucky replied, slapping his hand down on Steve’s leather-clad thigh and squeezing hard. The only one who didn’t look surprised was Natasha—of course.

“That explains a lot,” Clint said slowly. 

“What was that like? Being gay back then?” Bruce pressed.

“I’m bisexual,” Steve corrected.

“I’m the fag,” Bucky said with a shrug, eliciting another peal of laughter from Tony.

“Oh my God, did my dad know?” he gasped.

“Er, yes,” Steve told him. 

“Howard offered Steve $100,000 for one night together in—what was it, Steve? Prague?”

“Amsterdam, actually.” 

Tony’s face fell. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

“No, he’s not, and no, I didn’t,” Steve replied, holding up a finger; “and to answer your question, Bruce, it was difficult. Lots of hiding, lots of secrecy, lots of broken families when you inevitably failed in the first two.”

Bucky sniffed softly and tightened his grip on Steve’s leg, but otherwise didn’t react. Steve turned to him. “You know, Tony has an interesting theory. He says that God must have made gay people, or he wouldn’t have put the sweet spot where it is.”

“Ew, this is like hearing my dad talk about gay sex,” Clint groaned.

“Makes sense,” Bucky replied, ignoring the archer completely. 

Steve finished his coffee and went to put the mug in the sink. “Well, this has been a pleasant conversation and all, but I’m going to turn in. Good job, everyone.” 

Bucky followed him out; neither one was surprised when the room erupted into chatter as soon as they left. “You believe that? Them thinkin’ you’re a virgin?” he asked.

“I noticed they didn’t think the same of you,” Steve replied, taking the brunet’s hand.

“It’s ‘cause of my rugged good looks,” Bucky said, rubbing his free hand over his stubbly cheeks. “And because I actually talk to women. Also, it looks like you stepped out of a toothpaste advertisement.”

“Well!” Steve gasped. “See if I let you up in my sweet spot now.”

“You will,” the brunet smirked, dropping the other’s hand so he could grab at his ass. “Who doesn’t need a good finger-pop at the end of a hard week?”

Steve adjusted his gait as Bucky’s fingers stroked the crack of his ass. Every time he took a step, he pressed against Steve’s asshole through his uniform. His knees trembled as they made their way to the elevator.

“Ugh, come on, grandpas!” Tony groused, crossing the hall behind them.

“Steve was almost your stepfather!” Bucky shouted back.

The sound of absolute disgust that followed them into the elevator was worth it. 

Steve struggled out of his uniform when they got back to their apartment. It seemed like every time they redesigned the damn thing, they added a zipper in a place he couldn’t reach. Bucky was happy to help peel him out of it. The blond man closed his eyes as Bucky sucked a hickey onto the side of Steve’s neck. He was quiet, introspective, still turning what Tony said over in his head.

“Missed you, baby,” Bucky said, pushing Steve’s pants to the floor.

“I missed you too.”

Bucky pulled him down onto the couch so that he was straddling his hips. “I should take a shower,” Steve muttered, lazily kissing the other man’s cheek. His stubble tickled his lips and tongue.

“I like you dirty,” Bucky replied, grasping his ass. Steve gasped and hummed his assent. From this angle, he was looking down at Bucky while Bucky stared up at him. His eyes were still a little puffy from sleep, but the pupils were wide; he drew his lower lip into his mouth and smirked.

“You could talk me into murder with that face,” Steve purred.

“Not murder, but I’ve talked you into some dumb shit,” Bucky replied. He ran his hands up and down the other man’s thighs, pausing only to circle the end of his tailbone with one finger. Steve shivered. That was one of his hot spots. His erection got trapped between their bodies, and as he rocked his hips back and forth, it rubbed against the soft fabric of Bucky’s shirt.

“There was that time at Barney’s, or down at the docks—“

“The docks was _your_ idea. A birthday gift, if I remember correctly,” Bucky interrupted, “that I only went along with because of _your_ face right now. Who wouldn’t do anything for a man wearing that look?” 

“What look?” Steve asked. He brushed his thumbs over Bucky’s cheekbones, and the other man turned his head, capturing the digit between his teeth. His tongue laved against the sensitive fingertip before drawing it into the wet heat of his mouth. Steve’s lips parted as his breath came in ragged pants.

“That look that tells me you’d beg me to touch you right now.” Bucky drew on his thumb gently. 

“Mm,” Steve agreed, moving his finger in and out of the other man’s mouth. “I would.” 

“So do it,” Bucky replied, biting the pad of his thumb lightly.

The blond laughed and ducked his head. He wasn’t good with dirty talk—never had been. That was more Bucky’s thing. “Please,” he started, “you said you’d—finger me earlier. I’d really like that.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky spread Steve’s cheeks with his metal hand and rubbed the tight pucker of flesh with his thumb.

Steve’s hands flew to the brunet’s shoulders as fire shot up his spine. “Please, Buck, don’t play with me. Put your fingers inside me; make me come.” 

“You can do better than that,” Bucky chided, letting his thumb slip inside him for just a moment before withdrawing. 

“Bucky!” he whined. “Just finger-fuck me already!”

“Not exactly begging, but I’ll take it,” he said. Bucky reached behind him and grabbed a bottle of lube from the couch cushions (they really needed to tidy up), and poured some down the crack of Steve’s ass. Steve’s cock twitched against Bucky’s chest even before he slipped two fingers inside him.

“Holy—“

“ _There_ it is,” Bucky sighed, looking back up at Steve. The blond man had his head thrown back as he alternated between rocking back against Bucky’s fingers and grinding against his chest. 

“Oh, God, baby, you have no idea—“

“Yes I do.”

Steve pressed his lips into a firm line to keep from crying out. Bucky always felt good inside him, his fingers crooked just right; even his knuckles, rough as they were, felt so goddamn fantastic he could scream.

“Let me hear you, sweetheart,” Bucky asked.

A high, keening moan escaped Steve’s throat. “That’s it! Jesus fuck! Oh, baby, Buck—I can’t—“

“You don’t have to.” Bucky spread his fingers slightly and moved them in a slightly circular motion—as much as he could with Steve clenching around his fingers, anyway. He was coming a moment later, remembering an instant too late that Bucky was wearing his shirt, the bastard. 

After a shower and a little reciprocation, they were back in bed. Steve still couldn’t sleep, even though it’d been over forty hours since he lay down. “Buck, do you believe in God?” he asked.

“Is this because of what Tony said?” Bucky asked, turning to him with a frown.

“Yeah. I just—I didn’t believe for a long time after my ma died…and your dad kicked us out. But finding you again and seeing the way people are now…” Steve shrugged.

“No, I don’t believe in God,” he answered, propping himself up on his elbows.

The blond man pulled his mouth to the side. “Would you care if I did?” 

“No, Stevie, of course not. Hell, I’ll even go to mass with you, if you want.”

Steve laughed and put his arms around the other man. “You’ve never been to mass in your life.” 

“So? I’d never been to Europe either, but I did that too. I’ll support you. Whatever you want. Go to sleep.” 

Steve didn’t know what he wanted or what he believed, but knowing Bucky was there helped. He rested his head against his shoulder and closed his eyes.

 _Please, God, if you’re there, let this moment go on for a little longer…_  

And he fell asleep, dreaming of Bucky’s arms around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lighter than the last chapter! And yes, both the incident at Barney's and at the docks will be explored in the coming days. I hope you enjoyed it. Leave me a note if you like.


	13. Day 13 - Rimming

Bucky was happy that there were guys like Morita who told him when Howard Stark kept Steve for suspiciously long amounts of time. They all gave Stark the side-eye because he wasn’t really _one of them_ ; he was a civilian with big enough brains and pockets to keep him safe. And the Howlies were very protective of Steve; oddly so, for a man who had a habit of running headlong into explosions. They believed (perhaps because of the way Steve became so flustered around Carter) that he was naïve. Innocent, even. Bucky knew better, of course, but he also knew that Steve believed in the best of people, and also that Howard Stark did not deserve the benefit of the doubt. 

Okay, he was probably a little overprotective and paranoid too. 

Bucky slammed his shoulder into the door of Howard’s lab in London and busted the flimsy lock right out of the jamb. So far, he’d told no one about the changes he experienced since Azzano, but they were getting harder to hide. That, however, was at the back of his mind when he stumbled into Howard’s lab and saw Steve, mostly naked, posed in front of a camera. 

When Bucky thought “mostly naked,” he really meant “what’s the point?” Steve was dressed only in a pair of tiny white briefs. They covered exactly his cock and balls and not a whole hell of a lot more. Steve was standing with his arms over his head, but he let them fall with an obvious sense of relief when Bucky came in. Howard looked like a man caught red-handed.

“What’s this?” Bucky snapped. He stepped in between Steve and the camera.

“Just doing a little research and documentation,” Howard smoothly replied, as if Bucky couldn’t see the erection tenting his pants. How did Steve miss it? Had he? What if he was _letting_ Howard seduce him? Oh God, what if now that he was big he wasn’t interested in Bucky anymore? It wasn’t as though he couldn’t do better now. Bucky was just a kind of pretty street rat. Howard had so much more to offer—

“You didn’t get enough of that in Camp Lehigh?” he asked, clenching and unclenching his fists. Behind Bucky, Steve threw on his clothes. 

“I didn’t have my instruments there. Why are you getting your knickers in a twist, Miss Prim?” Howard smiled, though it was really more of a baring of teeth. Steve took him by the crook of his arm.

“Let’s go get some grub, huh?” the blond asked, giving him a smile that conveyed anxiety and a hint of desperation. Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “’Scuse us, Howard.”

“Steve, next time you’re free, I want to take some film,” Howard called after them. Bucky flipped him off on his way out. 

“You takin’ skin pics all of a sudden?” the brunet asked his lover. The damp London air brushed their skin like a wet kiss. 

Steve shrugged, still holding Bucky’s elbow. “They did a lot of that after the—procedure. It don’t mean nothin’. Come on, I’m starving.”

“You shoulda stayed with Howard. Bet he’s got steak and potatoes in there,” Bucky sniped.

“Don’t be jealous. It ain’t becoming on you, Buck,” Steve replied, rolling his eyes a little. 

Bucky tore away from him and folded his arms over his chest like a petulant child. “Christ, just go! Everyone sees you now. You got a chance to be with someone—“

Steve physically hauled Bucky towards one of the dark houses that lined the street. He elbowed the door in and gently pushed the other man into the empty room. “What are you going on about?” he demanded, his arms akimbo. 

Bucky sat down on the remnants of a chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re gonna leave me,” he snapped.

“I am _not_ , shit for brains. I changed my body—admittedly a body I didn’t like—and followed _you_ into war. Sure, people see me now, but you always saw me.” He patted his chest. “Steve Rogers. Not Captain America.”

Bucky finally turned his eyes towards the other man. Steve was seething, blotches of color appearing high on his cheeks. His eyes were an astonishing shade of blue, like a winter sky. “You think I would—after everything we’ve been through? You think I’m a flake? What do I gotta do to convince you?” 

“You know Stark was takin’ pictures of you to jerk it to,” Bucky said.

This time, Steve’s whole face turned red. “No! They’re for research. Science!” He rolled his hand vaguely. Bucky had to laugh. He clapped his hands together.

“No, baby. They’re for private use only,” he giggled. Seeing Steve get angry had broken his morose spell. If he had truly been thinking of leaving, it would have been written across his face. Instead, he got the righteous anger of Steve Rogers. _How dare Bucky even_ dream _that Steve would leave him?_

“Well, I’m still hungry,” Steve grumbled, and then smirked at him. “Come here.” 

“Hm?” Bucky got up from the chair only to be scooped up in Steve’s strong arms. He squawked, wiggled, and then patted the other man’s cheek roughly.

“Put me down, ya big mook.”

“Nuh uh,” Steve replied, grinning hugely. He carried Bucky into the next room where there was a sofa. Steve threw him down on it and then flipped him onto his belly so that he was draped over the arm of the thing. Bucky’s head was spinning. He couldn’t get used to how strong Steve was now. Christ, maybe what Zola did to him in Azzano was a blessing; otherwise, Bucky might fucking break.

“What are you doing?” he asked over his shoulder. Steve had one hand on the center of his back, keeping him still.

“Somethin’ I’ve been wantin’ since I first made love to you,” Steve replied. He unbuckled Bucky’s belt from behind (no mean feat), and pulled his trousers down over his ass. Bucky could feel Steve’s breath against his exposed flesh and shivered. 

“What are you doing?” Bucky repeated softly. He wiggled his hips against the couch until the angle was just right.

“Give me your hands,” the blond demanded, and Bucky happily held his arms behind his back. Steve held his wrists together with one hand and spread his cheeks with the other. Bucky just barely had time to say “Oh shit” before he felt Steve’s lips against the cleft of his ass.

“Steve--!" 

“You’re so _pretty_ ,” Steve purred. The emphasis on the last word gave Bucky the impression that he wasn’t talking about his face.

“So cute,” the blond man added, and laid a kiss right on his asshole. Bucky made a sound he would be embarrassed to recall later.

“Stevie, you can’t—“

“No? Tell me you don’t want it and I’ll stop,” Steve said softly, stroking and spreading Bucky’s thighs apart.

The brunet could only moan.

“Alright.” Steve ran his tongue over his entrance and Bucky jerked against the couch. Steve tightened his grip on his wrists. His other hand kneaded the muscle of Bucky’s ass; his spit dripped down his balls. 

“Oh damn. Oh, shit, baby.”

“Relax.” Steve worked his tongue against him until Bucky finally relaxed enough to let him in. Bucky pushed back against Steve’s mouth and Steve released his wrists so that he could put both hands against his ass. Bucky couldn’t tell if he was pushing him back or bringing him forward. All he knew was that he wanted more. He impaled himself on Steve’s tongue and bit back another cry.

It was surreal, feeling Steve’s tongue in his most intimate place. He grinded against the couch, his hands gripping armrest underneath him.

“Oh God,” Steve groaned. “You taste like heaven.”

“You said that about my cock too,” Bucky bit back.

“ _You_ taste like heaven,” the blond corrected himself. Bucky _felt_ him smirk as he left another kitten-lick against his asshole and slid a finger inside him.

“Oh, f-fuck you, Steve Rogers!” he stuttered. Steve toyed with Bucky’s prostate while he spread him enough to push his tongue in deeper. He was rewarded with a short yell from the brunet—and a spasm as he came, clenching his thighs around Steve’s head.

After the shivers and moans stopped, Steve pulled back, drawing the back of his hand over his mouth. “Think about this the next time you think I’m gonna leave you.” 

Bucky let himself completely collapse over the arm of the couch. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the past few days, Christmas and all! I hope you all have happy holidays!


	14. Day 14 - 69 (DUUUDE)

Steve swayed a little in the air, his feet pointed at the ceiling, his arms stuck to his sides with whatever Peter shot out of his wrists (which was kind of revolting, now that he thought about it). Bucky grinned down at him, very much like the spider that caught the fly. The kid had run off to get something to free Steve, leaving the blond dangling from the ceiling with just Bucky for company.

"Not so funny now, is it?" Bucky asked, obviously remembering how Steve had teased him for getting stuck during the big to-do at the airport.

"I imagine you find this pretty amusing," Steve replied, looking up at him. His head was about level with Bucky's hips, which made it very apparent when the brunet started to get aroused.

"There's a certain--appeal to the situation," he answered, grasping Steve's hips so he stopped swinging. Bucky slipped his fingers between Steve's legs and massaged him gently.

"Bucky!"

He nosed Steve's cock through his uniform pants. The blond tried to wriggle away, but Peter had made sure that was an impossibility. Bucky grinned, and nipped at the sensitive flesh through the leather.

"Hey now!" Steve protested.

"Relax. Peter ain't comin' back for at least an hour. He owes me one," Bucky replied.

"'Owes you one?'" the blond replied. His lips pulled back in a grimace as he fought against the webbing. "You set me up?"

"Only a little." Bucky unzipped Steve's fly and slipped his hand inside. "You've been kind of tense lately, and I thought, 'Well, your birthday's coming up.' Why you gotta bother with underwear, anyway?"

"It's leather, Buck. You ever wear shoes without socks? I'd reek," the upside down blond explained.

"Makes it harder to get at that dick, is all I'm sayin'," Bucky replied. His tongue went to the corner of his mouth as he finally freed Steve from his uniform.

"You gotta be kidding me," the other man sighed. "All the blood rushin' to my head and my cock at once is gonna give me a heart attack." Steve once again tried to struggle free, and all he managed to do was make his dick flop against his stomach. Bucky chuckled at his efforts.

"As if you're capable of a heart attack," he said, and licked his lips. "Now c'mere."

"Don't have much choice," Steve grumbled, and then gasped when Bucky buried his face in his crotch. He rested his head against the other man's thigh and alternately moved into and away from Bucky's mouth. His lips and warm breath were all over him, but not around him, like he so desperately needed.

"If you're just gonna play around, undo your pants, chump." Steve nuzzled Bucky's hip and glared up at him. The brunet arched his brows and smirked down at him.

"'Play around,' he says," Bucky laughed. "Okay." He released Steve's hips long enough to push his sweatpants down, the waistband tucked neatly under his balls. Then he grabbed the other man again, angled his neck, and took him in his mouth. Steve muffled a cry against Bucky's hip. The brunet worked his tongue against the sensitive head of his cock. When he had his wits somewhat about him, Steve was determined to give as good as he got. He sucked Bucky down, but was less than precise with his administration. He couldn't concentrate with Bucky tonguing his shaft that way.

It was actually pretty frustrating.

Steve slapped Bucky's thigh and got a swat on the butt in response. The blond pulled off of him with a groan. "Oh Christ, Buck! You are so--"

"Mm?" Bucky hummed around his cock. His eyes, alight with mischief and desire, glanced down at him again. His drool was actually dripping up Steve's chest.

"Ridiculous and sexy and frustrating! And I wish I could touch you right now."

"You were doing just fine," Bucky pointed out, tears running from his eyes from the strain of Steve's cock down his throat.

With a soft growl, Steve took him in his mouth again while Bucky did the same. He drew hard on Steve's cock and dropped his hands from his hips to Steve's shoulders to hold him steady. When Bucky started a rhythm that made Steve feel like his brains were spilling out his cock, he began pumping in and out of Steve's mouth, too.

Steve very secretly harbored a little thrill when he felt used. It made him hard to be disregarded--in moderation, of course. Bucky always seemed to know where the line was. This was perfect. He was practically worshipping Steve's cock while he fucked his mouth.

His cries were caught in his throat by Bucky's arousal. The soft, gagging sound made Bucky harder, made him thrust harder. Steve's cry turned into a nasal whine; then Bucky's semen was flooding his mouth and Steve was holding it on his tongue so he didn't choke and then he was coming too, lights flashing behind his eyes, psyche exploding.

Bucky pulled back and swallowed before helping Steve sit up enough to do the same. They sat like that, Steve resting against Bucky's chest, for a moment, in silence. "So I've been tense?" Steve finally asked.

"An absolute horror to be around," Bucky confirmed.

"What time will Peter be back?"

"Why? Isn't this nice?"

"Yeah, but I'd like to get upstairs and see if you can make me come like that again."

That had Bucky pulling on the webbing with both arms, his heels dug into the gym floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shorter one. I still hope you enjoyed it.


	15. Day 15 - Sweet and Passionate

It was rare that Bucky Barnes got sick, despite living with the human petri dish known as Steve Rogers, but here he was, curled up on the couch instead of the bed he shared with Steve even though the doctor told him what he had was non-communicable. Bucky wasn't about to take a chance with Steve's health, no matter how many times the doctor reassured him or Steve stamped his foot. He would die alone out here, thanks.

And it did feel as though he were dying. His entire body ached--his chest especially, from coughing up what he could only surmise was his entire lung.

Steve, bless his faltering heart, was doing his best to take good care of him, but he was absolutely terrible at it. Make no mistake, Bucky appreciated his efforts (and the cute apron and headscarf he was wearing), but after being served brackish water for coffee and bits of charcoal for pancakes, Bucky needed Steve to capitulate.

"I'm thinking pork roast for dinner tonight," Steve said, hands resting on his slim hips. Bucky could see the struggle to remain positive in the face of crushing defeat shining in the blond's eyes. "I got my ma's recipe box. Shouldn't be too hard."

"Baby--" croaked Bucky.

"I mean, even I can follow simple written instructions, right?" Steve interrupted.

"Baby, my throat is sore. I dunno if I can manage a roast. What I could really go for is that potato soup they serve at the corner deli."

"Potato soup at the corner deli," Steve repeated. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Yeah," Bucky replied, praying that the other man didn't insist.

Steve appeared to accept the diversion. He dropped his hands from his hips and untied his apron. "Then that's what I'll do. I still got a little cash left over from the other night, so don't even think about tryin' to pay for it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Bucky replied.

"I ain't any good at this, am I?" Steve's face abruptly fell. He looked so much like a kicked puppy, Bucky could cry. "Guess this is why queers don't have kids," Steve concluded sadly.

Bucky pushed himself up into a sitting position and pulled the other man to him by his belt loops. "Don't you talk like that, Steve Rogers. You'd make an excellent father." Steve rested his chin on top of Bucky's head and sniffed--a valiant effort on his part not to cry.

"I mean, bein' a ma is more in my blood than yours anyways. You know I practically raised my sisters, and God knows I dangled from my ma's apron strings until you came along. You don't know what the future holds, Stevie." Bucky buried his face in Steve's skinny chest. "We'd make fuckin' ace parents."

"You mean that?" the blond asked. His arms closed around Bucky's neck as he nuzzled his hair.

"Of course I do," he replied, and pulled Steve down into his lap. Screw non-communicable illnesses and his renegade lungs. He couldn't watch Steve collapse in on himself like that. He'd never been good at accepting rejection or failure, and Steve really was garbage at household chores. God, if anything ever happened to Bucky, Steve would die of starvation. Bucky slipped his hands up underneath Steve's shirt and felt each individual knob of his spine. The blond arched into him and stroked the short hairs at the back of Bucky's neck.

"I love you," Steve said softly, cupping the other man's face in his hands. His callused palms stroked Bucky's stubble. The brunet back looked up at him, his eyes focused on Steve's plush lips.

"You're not so bad yourself. That apron really got me goin'," Bucky replied with a smirk. Steve rolled his eyes, kissed him--and abruptly pulled away.

"Maybe we shouldn't. Not if you're sick," he said. Even as he protested, he put his fingers down the neck of Bucky's shirt. His arousal was heavy against Bucky's thigh, which he not-so subtly rubbed against him. It was Bucky's turn to roll his eyes.

"If I tell you I'm too tired, I'm just going to have to listen to you jerk off in the other room. You might as well do it here with me."

Steve's brows arched briefly. His pale, elegant hands fluttered from Bucky's neck to his lower abdomen and crotch. "You want me to give you a tug job?" he asked. Those hands had already found their way into his boxers, and when Bucky looked up, Steve was staring back at him through long lashes. The brunet twitched in his palms.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful, you know that?"

"So're you," Steve replied, glancing down at the cock in his hands.

"You only tell me I'm pretty when you're horny," Bucky jokingly complained. Steve gave him an indulgent smile.

"You got the most astonishing eyes I've ever seen. Like a storm coming in over the Atlantic." He ran his middle finger down the bridge of Bucky's nose. "Your nose is as cute as a button, and your lips are so pink, like I already kissed 'em." Steve leaned and kissed him again. "You're beautiful."

Bucky leaned back on the couch so Steve was more properly astride him. His head fell back against a cushion as the other man continued to work him. Steve buried his face in Bucky's chest, slipping easily into the space between the brunet's body and the back of the couch. His hands never stopped moving up and down his shaft, his clever fingers rolling over the head in a way that made Bucky clench his jaw.

Bucky's breath came in haggard pants, and not because of his cold. His hips arched off of the cushions and into Steve's hands.

"Oh, God, Stevie--" Bucky bit his lower lip and pushed his fingers through his hair. "I love you. More than anything or anyone--"

"I love you too, Buck," Steve replied. He looked up at the other man before curling his fingers into a tight fist. Bucky moaned and fucked up into his hand. Steve shifted so he could wrap his lips around him. Looking down, all Bucky could see were those eyes and those damned lips, all shrouded behind a fall of golden blond hair.

Bucky's hand tightened on the back of Steve's neck. "I'm gonna come! Oh shit, I'm coming!"

Steve's hand disappeared, but he swallowed his length down. A few drops of come dripped from his mouth and trickled back into Bucky's pubic hair. After the last spasm hit him, Steve returned to his spot at his side and swallowed.

"You really think we could have a family?" Steve asked.

"Sure, but maybe we should start out with a dog or cat," Bucky replied.

The blond turned to look up at the other man.

"So you don't accidentally kill it."

Steve huffed a huge sigh through his nose.

"Maybe sea monkeys, like you order from the back of comic books."

The other man grunted--and then sneezed into Bucky's armpit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway through! I'm looking forward to tomorrow. We finally learn what happened at Barney's!


	16. Day 16 - Public Sex

There was a bar not far from Bucky’s job at the docks, near Brighton Beach, that catered to a certain clientele. Steve and Bucky had discovered it quite by accident when they got caught kissing underneath a fire escape on a rainy day. The interloper handed them a very poorly mimeographed flyer for a place called Barney’s. Steve and Bucky had dressed up in their best suits and went the next Friday night.

Steve didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t men wrapped in feather boas, dancing cheek to cheek with other fellas, and even necking in the dark corners. Of course, he had expected Barney’s to be a queer bar, but he supposed he hadn’t stopped to think of what a queer bar actually _was_.

He knew now that there were bars that were for men and bars that were for women and some that were for both. Barney’s was the first sort. In the time that Steve frequented the bar, he never ever saw a single woman there. At first, Steve had been terrified to touch Bucky. And Bucky had seemed uneasy as well. Touching was anathema, a one-way ticket to the loony bin or worse. As time went on, however, they relaxed into the groove of the place, the smooth jazz on the record player, and the free-flowing liquor.

One night, Steve had a bit too much to drink. He’d discovered Jack and Cokes and really went to town, especially when someone else was footing the bill. They’d discovered early on that two young, attractive men didn’t have to pay for much at Barney’s. They liked to watch, and Bucky, at least, was always willing to put on a show.

Tonight, they were dancing chest to chest because Steve kept stumbling over his own feet. His arms were draped loosely over Bucky’s shoulders as he ran his lips over the exposed skin of the other’s throat in a sloppy kiss. The men at the bar were watching with predatory gleans in their eyes. Steve had been surprised to find that he was actually more popular with the older men than Bucky. That was until a man gave him a pamphlet entitled _A Problem in Greek Ethics_ , and Steve had to look up the word _pederasty._ They liked him because he was young and fair and small—all the qualities that polite society despised in him.

“Everyone’s staring, baby,” Bucky whispered into his ear. He didn’t sound displeased. Steve’s shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and had slipped down over his shoulder. His suspenders had disappeared somewhere along the line, and his pants were on the verge of falling down; as he leaned against Bucky, his waistband balanced precariously on the swell of his ass.

“You like it,” Steve muttered back. He straightened long enough to pull his pants up, much to the dismay of the onlookers. “You like knowing you got what everyone else wants.” 

“You may be right. I don’t deny it.” Bucky grinned back at him and captured Steve’s lips in a deep kiss. The blond moaned, the sound lost with the moody blues track on the record player. As he leaned into him, his pants slipped lower. Bucky made no attempt to pull them back up. Instead, he dragged Steve off into a dark corner where he set about pulling Steve’s shirt up over his head. One of the men at the bar whistled. 

“Here?” Steve asked, leaning back against the wall. His long-fingered hands went to cover his chest. The crowd around them was growing tighter.

“No,” Bucky replied, pulling him into the bathroom instead. Steve was distantly relieved, but that feeling was soon replaced with intense need when Bucky lifted him by the hips and balanced him on the porcelain sink.

“Fucking fuck me, Buck,” he moaned, and squeezed the other man’s shoulders.

“What do you think I’m doing, punk?” Bucky replied as he fumbled with Steve’s fly. He was pretty far gone himself at this point, but eventually he pulled Steve’s pants and underwear around his ankles. Steve immediately started stroking himself while Bucky reached into his pocket, retrieved a pot of Vaseline, and unzipped his own fly.

Steve let out a little chuckle that almost sent him tipping over the side of the sink. “You’re gonna fuck me while I’m naked and you’re dressed? That’s—kinda hot, Buck.” 

“You’re kinda hot,” Bucky replied. His pupils were blown wide with desire as he watched Steve jerk off. The little bastard leaned back against the mirror and ran his palm over one of his nipples. Bucky grabbed him by the thighs and roughly spread them. Steve gave a little gasp and grabbed hold of the sink to keep his balance.

“It makes me so fuckin’ hard to see everyone wantin’ you, and knowin’ I’m the only one who gets to feel you around me,” the brunet growled, and Steve stared back at him through a fan of dark lashes. He spread his legs a little wider.

Bucky took the Vaseline and scooped a dollop onto his fingers. Steve bit his lower lip and smirked, his hand going between his legs to circle his asshole.

“Fuckin’ tease,” Bucky laughed, and pulled Steve’s hand away so he could do the job himself. His finger slid easily inside the other man, and Steve tossed his head back against the mirror. He watched his own reflection from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t keep it in focus. His entire world was boiled down to the finger inside him and the warm hand on his thigh.

He sighed, licked his lips, and arched his hips into Bucky’s hand. “That’s it, baby,” Bucky said, running his lips over Steve’s neck. The blond glanced over at the door just as it opened. An older, well-dressed man stepped inside, paused, and leaned against the door. Bucky saw him but didn’t stop. In fact, he bit Steve’s neck hard enough to draw a cry from the other man.

“Buck, please,” Steve sighed, turning his eyes to the other man. 

“You want me to stop?” he asked softly.

“No, I want you to fuck me _now_ ,” he bit out. He glanced pointedly at the interloper and grinned. Bucky made a sound deep in his throat and greased up his cock, lining himself up as Steve wrapped his legs around his hips. The stranger, whoever he was, echoed Bucky’s sound but stayed where he was, content to watch. 

When Bucky slid home, a jolt of electricity went up Steve’s spine. He arched his back and grasped the sink until his knuckles turned white. A high keening moan escaped him. Bucky stretched him so good; the burn was so sweet. He closed his eyes as the brunet moved inside him.

“Jesus Mary and Joseph, you feel so good inside me,” he groaned. Sweat beaded on his forehead and upper lip, which he licked away.

“Goddamn it, Stevie,” Bucky growled, thrusting into him harder. Steve’s toes curled behind the other man’s back as he let out tiny little cries with every push.

The stranger also moaned, palming himself through his slacks. Steve could imagine how they looked: himself pale but blushing down to his chest, mouth slack, hair rumpled; Bucky tanned from the sun, his ass peeking out from his loose slacks, pumping in and out of Steve’s spread thighs. The thought made Steve harder; he reached between their bodies and wrapped his hand around his cock.

“Ah, fuck!” Steve cried, his hand working furiously.

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Bucky groaned.

“I’m gonna come. Oh God, I’m gonna come!” 

“I can feel it. Come on, baby, let me see you go,” Bucky replied. He gripped Steve’s hips harder as he slammed into the other man. Steve clenched his jaw as his entire body tensed, and then he was spilling over his own hand and chest. 

Bucky came with another groan, his hips stuttering against Steve’s ass. He rested against the blond briefly before pulling back. The stranger looked like he might have had a little fun himself, but that didn’t stop him from taking a few steps away from the door to watch as Steve tried to catch his breath. It probably didn’t hurt that he caught Bucky’s release dripping out of him, either. 

“Enjoy the show?” Bucky asked him, shielding Steve’s nakedness with his own. The man nodded. “Then get the fuck out.” Bucky tossed his head toward the door and the stranger scurried out. Steve laughed breathlessly as he hopped down from the sink and lifted his pants.

When they stepped back into the club and up to the bar, they found that their tab had been paid for the rest of the night—the rest of the week, in fact.

Steve ordered another Jack and Coke, his hips swaying along with the beat of the record. Bucky came up from behind and moved with him.

This dance, they could do all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed this one. I hope you did too!


	17. Day 17 - On the Floor

On the day of Bucky’s twenty-first birthday, he and Steve moved into their first apartment together. It was nothing special, a little cold water flat with two rooms. The kitchen was nestled in the corner of their living space, and their bedroom even had a window: a big picture window that actually had half a view.  Not bad, considering.

But Bucky wasn’t happy. It was the first birthday he’d be spending away from his family, since his father had told him in no uncertain terms to get out. That was Christmas; he and Steve had been staying with friends since March. Bucky hated putting Steve in that environment. Not all of their “friends” were of the reputable sort. Bucky had been exposed to sex and drugs, but Steve hadn’t—as far as he knew. He’d stayed awake more than one night to make sure the little blond would get a good night’s rest, free from molestation and marijuana smoke.

Bucky sat down on the floor of their new bedroom. He’d insisted that the landlord replace the mattress on their full-size bed for the sake of Steve’s back, so there was just a bare set of springs under the window. A cool March breeze fluttered the ratty curtains, and for a moment, he heard birdsong instead of the all-encompassing din of the city.

Steve came into the apartment with a few groceries from the deli on the corner. “Bucky?” he called. His light steps came into the bedroom. “Hey, Buck,” he said more softly. 

“Mm?” Bucky turned to look over his shoulder just as the breeze picked up his unbuttoned shirt and pulled it away from his sweaty back. He’d been hauling what few possessions they had upstairs all day. 

“How are you?” he asked, coming around to stand in front of him. Steve slowly sat down so he was sitting knee to knee with him.

“I’m fine,” Bucky assured him, trying and failing to give him a smile. Steve got up on his knees and wrapped his thin arms around Bucky’s neck.

“Happy birthday,” Steve whispered and kissed his cheek. “I know this ain’t the kind of birthday you wanted.”

Bucky smiled for real and put his arms around the other’s chest. “This is exactly the kind of birthday I wanted. I get to spend it with you in a place we can call ours.” He fell backwards and pulled Steve down on top of him. Steve laughed and planted his elbows on either side of Bucky’s head.

“It’s good to hear you laugh,” Bucky said, putting his hands on Steve’s hips. Steve kissed a trail along the brunet’s jaw, his tongue flickering against the cleft in his chin. Bucky arched his neck to give the other man better access. 

“It feels good to laugh. It feels good to do this without worrying,” Steve replied. He reared back, sitting solidly on Bucky’s abdomen, and pulled off his shirt. Bucky could hardly believe his luck sometimes, how beautiful Steve was. Everything in shades and white and pink.

“How do you want me? It’s _your_ birthday,” Steve said.

Bucky thought about it for a moment while he traced idle patterns into Steve’s skin. His own hand looked so dark and rough against the other man’s skin. That made up his mind. “I want you between my legs with your cock up my ass.”

Steve blinked and actually blushed all the way down to his chest. “Oh. Okay, sure,” he replied.

“You think you can?” Bucky asked, running his hands up Steve’s back.

The blond nodded his head and unbuckled Bucky’s belt. Steve pushed the other man’s a-shirt up and laid kisses against his abdomen, tonguing the trail of hair that disappeared underneath the waistband of his trousers. Bucky sighed and arched his hips up off the floor. His fingers buried themselves in Steve’s fine hair as his mouth fell open.

Steve curled his fingers underneath the waist of Bucky’s pants and underwear and pulled them down. The brunet’s rapidly filling erection bobbed free, and Steve glanced up at him with a small smile. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you actually find me attractive.” 

It took a second for Bucky’s brain to kick in. “What a stupid thing to say. You’re an angel.”

“Angel? I’m about to fuck you up the ass,” Steve replied, and blushed again. 

“God, I hope so,” Bucky sighed. Steve laughed and pulled Bucky’s shoes and pants off. He was a little more reluctant to wiggle out of his own trousers. Even though it was just the two of them there, Steve remembered how their friends had looked at him when they were sharing a space. They did not see him as an angel; that was for sure. 

Bucky brushed his hand over Steve’s exposed flank. “ _Gawg_ -eous!” he exclaimed, grinning hugely. His eyes were sparkling because he knew what Steve was thinking; he’d seen the others looking at Steve, too. And he needed the blond to know that Bucky didn’t see him the way the others did--that he was exquisite.

“Gorgeous, right,” Steve snorted. He kissed Bucky’s inner thigh and flicked the back of his finger against Bucky’s asshole as he did. Bucky gasped and then dissolved into laughter, but not before slapping Steve’s shoulder.

“You are, you are,” he assured him. He half-curled onto his side from laughing, propped up on one elbow.

“You make me feel that way—beautiful, I mean,” the blond replied with a smile, moving up to kiss Bucky’s hipbone. “We got any slick?”

“Don’t rush! You haven’t even said ‘hello’ to the Captain,” he laughed, arching his hips to make his cock bounce up and down. Steve guffawed and then covered his mouth with one hand.

“The Captain? You kiddin’ me?”

“Good a name as any other,” Bucky replied, settling his hands behind his head. Steve rolled his eyes and said, “I was gonna _salute the Captain_ and get you ready at the same time— _since it’s your birthday an’ all_ —but since you’re so impatient—“

“No, no, we got slick,” Bucky quickly said, wiggling away from Steve long enough grab a bottle of Cornhuskers from one of the nearby boxes. He handed it to the smaller man, who took it with a dignified nod of his head. Steve met Bucky’s eyes and held them as he coated his fingers. Bucky imagined that even if he lived to be a hundred, the smell of Cornhuskers and Vaseline would still get him hard.

“O Captain, My Captain,” Steve said dryly, and worked his nimble fingers against Bucky’s anus. The brunet’s breath hitched as he spread his legs. He was ill prepared when Steve wrapped his lips around him and entered him at the same time. He almost spilled himself on those plush lips.

“Jesus fuck,” he sighed, arching into Steve’s mouth. Happy fucking birthday, indeed. Steve hummed as he took him deeper into his throat. Then he crooked his fingers and rubbed his sweet spot. 

“Ha!” Bucky shouted. His arms shot out from underneath his head and grasped at the empty bed frame above him. “Okay okay okay, if you don’t want me popping off in your mouth—“ 

“Who says I don’t? You don’t got two for me today?” Steve asked as he pulled off him with a slight pop.

Bucky made some sort of reply, but it was lost in all the blasphemes that came out of him at the same time. Steve pushed his fingers in deeper until Bucky felt the knuckles of his other fingers against his skin. He went back down on him and Bucky was done. He arched one more time, clenching so hard with his climax that he all but pushed Steve out of him. And the blond swallowed once, twice. Before the aftershocks wore off, Steve slicked himself up, grabbed hold of Bucky’s hips, and very slowly slid home.

Bucky’s weight was balanced on his shoulder blades and the ball of one foot; the other he had wrapped around Steve’s waist, pulling him deeper. His voice echoed off the walls of the empty room in one long, incoherent howl. Steve had his hand over Bucky’s lips in an attempt to hush him, but the brunet just wantonly took them into his mouth. Bucky _needed_ Steve. He needed this closeness, especially today.

“For me? All this for me?” Steve asked breathlessly.  His eyes were wide, watching.  “You’re somethin’ else, Buck. Goin’ wild like this underneath me. Really testin’ my self-control here. _Nng!_ ” 

Bucky came again but he barely knew it. He felt his come pooling in his belly button, felt Steve tense and shoot into him with a grunt. He collapsed on Bucky’s chest soon after.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Steve panted, dipping his fingers into Bucky’s navel.

“If you put that in your mouth I’m gonna lose it,” the brunet warned him.

Steve laughed. “You already lost it. Twice,” he replied, and popped his fingers in his mouth. 

“Oh, you bastard.” Bucky closed his eyes and wiped the sweat from his face.

“And many more to you.” Steve traced his smile with his fingertips before swatting the other man on the ass. “Now get up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was late! The one with my own kink is coming up and I have no idea what to do!


	18. Day 18 - Lazy Morning Sex

Steve Rogers did not do lazy mornings. Steve Rogers barely knew what a “lazy morning” constituted. Steve Rogers hadn’t had a lazy morning since 1925.

But then again, Steve rarely had a chance wake up wrapped around Bucky Barnes, who exploited every chance to be lazy that came his way. Currently, the brunet was sprawled over Steve’s chest, soaking his t-shirt with drool. Bucky’s metal hand latched onto Steve’s forearm, effectively trapping him there.

Well, it was no great loss, Steve told himself. It was snowing so hard it didn’t take enhanced hearing to hear the snowflakes hitting the floor-to-ceiling windows. It wasn’t like he was missing anything by not going on his morning run. He’d be missing more if he left.

Bucky rarely allowed his face to relax these days, but in sleep, he was really peaceful. Serene, actually. He was in one of his long-hair phases, and the thick, chestnut strands fell over his face and Steve’s chest like a storybook princess’s. Bucky would probably smack him for the comparison, but these were just thoughts, most likely forgotten in a quarter of an hour.

Steve wound his fingers around a strand of Bucky’s hair, letting the familiar silky feel of it slip across his palm. Bucky snorted in his sleep and clutched at him tighter. Steve continued to play with his hair—but abruptly stopped when he saw something very out of place: a silver hair.

Bucky must have felt him tense because he suddenly woke. “What? What is it?” He lifted his head and shook his hair out. It fell past his shoulder blades. 

“Nothin’,” Steve replied, pulling him back down. Bucky seemed to realize there was no danger and put his head back over Steve’s heart.

“You just got a silver hair, is all,” the blond said. 

Bucky shot out of bed like Steve pinched him. “What? No, that’s impossible!” he growled, stomping naked over into the bathroom. Steve admired the view for a moment and hopped out of bed after him, already missing the warmth of the sheets.

“It’s just the one hair, Buck. An’ we’ve been retired for years, it was bound to happen eventually,” he said, standing framed in the bathroom doorway. Bucky was pawing through his hair, searching for others. Steve wrapped his arms around him from behind, burying his face in that long, fragrant hair.

“I thought we couldn’t get old,” Bucky grumped.

“No, the serum just slows it. We were born in 1918. We’re well over a hundred now. And you were awake for more of that time than me. It kind of makes sense.” He kissed the back of the other man’s neck.

Bucky groaned in frustration and spun on his heel. With all his long hair, blue eyes, and clean-shaved cheeks, he actually was very pretty. Not handsome, but _beautiful_. Steve had always known that, but now, after seeing beings from other worlds and realms, he could safely say that sometimes, Bucky’s beauty was otherworldly.

Steve pushed his fingers through Bucky’s hair and piled it on top of the other man’s head in a messy up-do.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked. He was slowly softening; Steve could see it in the little curl of his lips. Bucky had always been vain, though it had manifested itself in different ways over the past century or so. In the thirties, it meant dressing sharp, keeping his shoes polished. Now, it was this whole counterculture thing he was into. He even wore makeup sometimes. Damned if it made any sense to Steve. He was an outdated old fogey, even though most of their friends were physically thirty years older (or more) than him. He clung to that old-fashioned view of masculinity while Bucky yielded more easily to the reality of things. He always had.

“Trying to coax my husband back to bed,” he answered, dropping his hand to Bucky’s so he could pull him along. Bucky took a few shambling steps before following him.

“Okay, okay,” he grumbled. As Steve turned his back, Bucky jumped on him. 

“You’re a million pounds,” Steve complained, though he never wavered. He just reached behind him and grabbed Bucky’s thick thighs, hauling him a bit higher on his back. 

“You’re gonna give me a complex. First pointing out my aging, now calling me fat. I’ll never live up your impossible standards, Stevie.”

“Shut up, twerp,” he replied, dumping Bucky on the bed and climbing in after him. Once he collected the brunet into his arms, he closed his eyes in a determined effort to go back to sleep.

Bucky, however, was awake. He poked Steve’s chest with a metal finger. 

“What is it?” Steve asked, opening one eye.

“I’m scared. I don’t want to get older than you.”

“You’ve always been older than me, Buck.”

“You know what I mean.” 

“I probably have plenty of gray hairs—all your fault, by the way—but they’re too fair to show. For once, there’s something natural happening to our bodies. It’s a good thing,” Steve stated.

Bucky tackled him back onto the mattress and rolled him onto his back. His metal arm went across Steve’s chest, pinning him in place.

“What are you doing?” Steve grumbled, struggling against him briefly. He could have thrown Bucky off, but he didn’t. He would never.

“Checking for these alleged ‘gray hairs,’” Bucky replied, arching his brows. He took his arm off of his chest so he could pull Steve’s shirt over his head. Bucky’s brows continued to go up as he ran his fingers over the other man’s smooth pectoral muscles. “Smooth as a baby’s ass, as ever,” he muttered.

Then he pushed his fingers through Steve’s hair, turning his head this way and that. “Not a hint of silver,” he concluded, and slipped lower.

Bucky divested Steve of his boxers next.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve groused, rolling his eyes. He tried to turn onto his side to escape Bucky’s inspection, but the other man was insistent, pinning him down with a hand on either hipbone. “Upon first inspection, your pubic hair is like spun gossamer, like goddamn usual.” He ran his fingers down Steve’s awakening dick and pushed it towards his abdomen. Then he was stroking his balls, rolling them over his fingers. Steve pressed his lips into a bloodless line to hold back a wanton moan.

“Nothin’ here either,” Bucky noted, grinning wickedly.

“Bastard,” Steve hissed.

“One more place to check.” The brunet flipped Steve over.

“Hey! C’mon, I think you would have noticed if I had gray hair there!”

Bucky ignored him and spread his cheeks. “Well, you always keep the lights off when you ask me to eat you out,” he pointed out. Steve felt his cheeks redden against the soft sheets. He thought he might set them on fire when Bucky started to laugh.

“You got to be shittin’ me!” he crowed. “You do! You have a gray butt hair!”

Steve scrambled away from him and drew his knees up to his chest. “I do not!” If he could have died of embarrassment, he would have. It wasn’t the idea of having a gray hair that bothered him, but that it was _on his ass_ —

Bucky chuckled in that particularly erotic way of his and crawled forward on his hands and knees. Steve thought, not for the first time, of a large jungle cat. Not just because of the long, soft hair dripping over his shoulders, either.

“Fair’s fair, baby,” he said. He grabbed Steve’s ankles and yanked him down the mattress, spreading his legs at the same time. When he was positioned between the blond’s thighs, Bucky’s grin grew wider. 

“Bucky—“ 

“Shh. I like it when you blush. It’s been a while. You think you’re slick enough from last night for another go?”

“Uh,” Steve grunted. Then his brain started to function and he tried to tuck his legs in, pull away from the other man. “I dunno if I’m in the mood,” he said. But Bucky held him fast.

“God, Steve, are you really embarrassed?” he asked.

He nodded. His body had been a source of contention his entire life: first, too small, then too big. He felt like the first time someone other than Bucky had seen him naked and called his penis “cute.”

“I lied, Steve. You don’t have a single gray hair on your stupid perfect body. Jesus, I’m vain and you’re _somehow_ still insecure. What a fuckin’ pair.”

Feeling betrayed and yet relieved, Steve sighed. He turned his head and looked at the snow beating against the window. Bucky stroked his thighs, whispered adoring names in his ear. Eventually, Steve had to smile. 

“You shouldn’t have to comfort me,” he finally said, turning back to Bucky.

“And why not? You spent most of the ‘10s comforting me. Waking up with every nightmare, being a part of every flashback, telling me I’m not a monster—“ 

“You’re not!” Steve snapped.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Point is, we’re married. It’s a give and take thing.”

Steve slowly grinned. “I think I’m slick enough.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m definitely hard enough.”

“Give and take,” Steve repeated.

However much Steve insisted, Bucky still took the time to slide a finger inside him to metaphorically test the waters. Steve slung his knees over Bucky’s shoulders, arching his back towards the ceiling. He grunted when the brunet pulled out of him.

“I kinda wish we had a bottle of Cornhuskers or Vaseline, ya know?” Bucky asked, slicking up his cock. “Smell of that shit still gets me hard." 

“Me too,” Steve admitted.

“Here we go,” Bucky sang, pushing into him. The blond crossed his ankles behind Bucky’s back as his eyes rolled back in his head. 

“Ah, Bucky, _Bucky_ —“

“I know, baby,” he replied. He rolled his hips gently. Steve gathered from that little motion that Bucky intended to take things slowly, to coax an orgasm out of him, rather than rip it from him. 

His hair brushed Steve’s abdomen as he leaned over to get more leverage. Steve reached out to him, but his fingers just grazed his cheeks. Then Bucky brushed his prostate and he collapsed back on the bed.

To Steve, it went on for hours, but the light didn’t change in the blizzard-dimmed room. His climax overtook him like a swelling ocean wave. Bucky continued to ride him for a minute or so more before being overcome as well.

When they were curled up again, half-dozing, Steve asked, “Tell me truthfully. Do I have a gray hair on my ass?”

“Yes,” Bucky mumbled, and Steve elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Prick!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years! May 2017 bring you much joy!


	19. Day 19 - Outside

There was never a time when Bucky noticed the differences between him and Steve more than when they were at the beach. Bucky took to the sun, sand, and waters like he'd been born there. Steve, however, didn't tan so much as roast alive and then freckle. Irish blood, Bucky supposed.

Bucky sat under an umbrella, naked except for the short bather he wore. Sweat shimmered on his exposed back and chest, which was deeply tanned from his work at the docks and little vacations like these. Steve was wearing linen shorts and one of Bucky's shirts, which hung from his thin shoulders and flapped in the breeze like a flag.

Bucky's little sister, Becca, had sneaked away from their parents' house by saying she was going to the beach with a classmate, because she was not supposed to see Steve or Bucky. Becca's loyalty to her brother and schoolgirl crush on Steve, however, had been wildly underestimated. She was one of the most tenacious thirteen-year-olds Bucky had ever known.

Steve and Becca were playing at the shoreline, picking up shells, chasing the tide. Steve was afraid of the water, Bucky knew, but he would never admit it. Never once had he seen Steve actually go in the ocean.

He was so small. Becca was just as tall and probably heavier than Steve. And Bucky was so fucking terrified of losing him.

As if on cue, Steve fell over in the sand and Becca started frantically waving her hands. Bucky bolted over as fast as the crowded beach would allow.

"What happened? What's wrong?" he panted. Steve was still rolling around in the sand.

"A crab bit my goddamned toe!" Steve grunted. "Sorry, Becks."

All the tension flooded from Bucky's shoulders, but he still couldn't laugh when Becca started to berate Steve for his filthy mouth. He helped the blond to his feet and dusted the sand from his legs.

"It ain't even bleedin'," Bucky pointed out harshly, angry that they had frightened him so.

"I just don't like sea things. Creepy crawly things," Steve muttered. He turned away, all wounded pride and damaged dignity.

"Aw, big brave Steve is afraid of an itty bitty crabby?" Becca mockingly sang, and Steve's shoulders hitched themselves higher. Bucky swatted her.

"Don't be a twerp, twerp," he snapped. Becca took after him and he ran, reluctantly leaving Steve behind in an impromptu game of sibling-rivalry tag.

By the time they were all out of energy, it was time for Becca to go home. Bucky returned to the shore and found Steve sitting alone, staring out over the water. The sun was going down to their right, and as Bucky approached, the light caught Steve's hair and turned it into a golden halo. It was the closest thing to an angel Bucky had ever seen. He plopped down beside the other man and sighed. The bridge of Steve's nose was beet red and already blistering. His chest, shoulders, and arms would be just as bad, despite his shirt.

"Have fun today?" Bucky asked. Steve made a noncommittal sound and continued to stare out at the ocean.

"Becks didn't upset you too much, did she?"

"No," he answered.

"You hurting?"

"Some. Not a big deal."

Bucky nudged the other man gently with his shoulder, just letting him know he was there.

"The ocean frightens me, Buck. I know it's just Brighton Beach and New York is right there," he paused to point to the west, "but sittin' here it just feels so big. It could swallow me up and no one would ever find me--"

"That won't happen," Bucky interrupted.

Steve dropped his chin to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees. "I'm not going to live forever, you know. I probably won't make it to thirty. I can't stand to think of you bein' alone. It ain't fair to you, Buck. It ain't fair to either of us, but it especially ain't fair to you."

Bucky sat in silence for a moment and then asked, "You done? 'Cause that's a bunch of bullshit. Pardon me, Stevie. I fuckin' treasure every second with you. You think I don't know about your health? You think your ma didn't pull me aside when you turned sixteen to give me the same speech? You're sick, but you could get better. I have hope for that. In the meantime, I'll take what I can get."

Steve laughed dryly and dashed the tears from his cheeks. "Guess it's a good thing I paid the patrol off to give us a little privacy then, huh?"

Bucky gasped loudly, pressing a hand to his chest. "Steven! Bribery?"

He shrugged and grinned at him. "Learned from the best."

Bucky thumbed his nose, absurdly proud of his little guy. "How long we got?"

"'Bout an hour," Steve replied, a smile playing about his lips. "What should we do?"

The brunet turned his head to look at the waves. "You want to go in?"

"No," Steve answered far too quickly.

"C'mon. I'll hold you the entire time. Maybe once you get in and, ya know, have some fun in the water, you won't be scared anymore."

Steve looked skeptical. "If you let me go, I swear, James Buchanan Barnes, I'll knock your block off!"

Bucky laughed and got to his feet. He offered a hand to Steve with one hand and pulled the hem of his bathers down with the other. Damn things were so short, it felt like his balls were coming loose every other move he made. Steve took his hand and hauled himself to his feet. They stumbled to the tide; Steve flinched when the water surged toward their feet. Taking pity on him and for absolutely no other reason, Bucky lifted Steve up against him before the tide washed over them. The blond still clenched his jaw and clutched Bucky's shoulders when it came.

"You okay?" Bucky asked.

"Real keen," Steve sighed.

"Okay." He wrapped his arms all the way around Steve's waist. "Then we're going deeper. I won't let go."

Steve made a tiny sound in his throat, barely audible over the waves, and let Bucky step deeper and deeper into the ocean. He was clutching the brunet so tightly it actually kind of hurt.

When they were about waist deep, Bucky stopped. Steve was more or less treading water now; he could feel his toes bumping against his shins. "You doin' okay? Not havin' a heart attack, are ya?" Bucky asked.

"No. I don't think so, least ways," Steve replied, and then screamed like he was stabbed when a piece of seaweed brushed his leg.

"Get me out, get me out!" he yelled, and Bucky obeyed, all but carrying him back to the shore. He set Steve down on their towel. The beach was deserted now, the sun almost set.

"You okay?" Bucky asked for what felt like the millionth time that day. Steve wiggled out of his wet clothes, revealing more blisters, more freckles.

"I guess so," he grumbled, rubbing the spot on his leg with a furrowed brow.

Bucky pulled his mouth to one side and sighed through his nose. "Alright, come here," he said. He rolled onto his stomach, his head between Steve's bent legs. The blond frowned (pouted, Bucky corrected) down at the other man.

"You likin' the view?" Steve asked, arching a brow.

"Very much," Bucky replied. His eyes lingered on Steve's cock and balls. The blond rolled his eyes and rested his chin in his hand. Bucky scooted forward a bit and flicked his tongue against Steve's asshole.

Steve sighed and laid back against the towel, his arms folded behind his head. Bucky adjusted himself accordingly and took Steve into his mouth.

His skin was salty from the water, which somehow intensified the natural flavor of Steve. He was musky and spicy and so, so sweet. Bucky rolled his glans over his tongue until he was rewarded with a drop of precome.

Steve was not what most would call "well-endowed," but he fit in Bucky's mouth perfectly. He sucked him from root to tip, back and forth, slowly, until Steve pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and sighed. Then he switched up his approach. He ran Steve's head over his lips, tongue, the insides of his cheeks. Bucky's hand came up to work Steve's balls. By that time, Steve was arching into his mouth and unabashedly moaning. Bucky went back to sucking his cock, quickly, quickly, until he felt Steve's balls tighten against his fingers.

The taste of Steve's come filled his mouth. He was briny and a bit bitter, like the ocean they had just stepped out of. Bucky swallowed it down.

"Ya know, Buck, the world's a beautiful place. Really great," Steve muttered, looking off into the west.

"Oh? I don't even get a little preferential treatment?" Bucky asked, nuzzling the other man's softening erection.

"Well, of course. But this, seeing Becks, this amazin' sunset, everything today--it's been beautiful."

"Even being in the ocean?"

Steve chuckled, running his hand through the other's wet hair. "Even that. Maybe I won't be so afraid when I actually have to go in alone."

He wasn't talking about swimming, Bucky realized. He was talking about dying.

Bucky turned his head and kissed the other man's palm. "You'll never be alone. Not so long as I'm living, baby. Never."

Steve just petted his hair and let his eyes drift back to the sunset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a bummer I am! But I was thinking about what it must have been like for the two of them, knowing Steve probably wouldn't live, even before the war.


	20. Day 20 - Your Own Kink (Dom/sub)

Steve, for all his artistic sensitivity, was, for the most part, a ball of rage wrapped in a short, skinny package. He had so many anger issues he hardly knew what to do with himself. It sometimes felt like he was being torn apart.

Perhaps that was why he picked fights so often.

He and Bucky were at the cinema one rainy Saturday afternoon, and the people behind them absolutely would not shut up. Tarzan was on screen bellowing like a maniac, and he could still hear the jerks talking and smacking their gum.

The fourth time Steve turned around in his seat to glare, they called him a faggot.

Everything was kind of a red haze after that, but he remembered Bucky dragging him from the theater.

"Did you hear what they said? What they called us? Let me go! I'll rip their heads off! I'll spit down their throats! I'll--" He struggled ferociously against the arms that held him, even when he was lifted off the ground, Steve kicked uselessly at the air in the alley where Bucky had taken him.

"Steve! Stop!" he cried, holding him fast. "Goddammit, your face is covered in blood!"

Steve was crying futile tears of anger now as he flailed against Bucky. "I'm not what they say! I'm not!"

"Shh," Bucky soothed, falling back on his ass in the filthy alley so Steve would stop fighting him. He wasn't worried for himself; he'd tempered Steve's rages before, but he was bleeding heavily and more out of control than Bucky had ever seen him.

Once they were on the ground, Steve took a few shuddering breaths and quieted. His head was pounding, and his face and neck were growing sticky with blood. "You can let me go now," he mumbled through split and fattening lips.

Bucky slowly released him. As much as he hated to admit it, Steve had scared him this time. He knew that his mother's death and their estrangement from Bucky's family had been difficult for Steve, but he'd never seen him go berserk like that.

Steve pushed himself to his feet. He drew his sleeve over his face and it was agony. The grimy rain falling only smeared the blood worse.

"We need to get you home," Bucky stated, taking Steve's elbow.

"You think I don't know that? I'm not a child! Certainly not your child."

Bucky narrowed his eyes. "Don't talk to me like that, Steve. You'll regret it."

Steve returned his glare before starting out of the alley towards their apartment.

When they got home, Steve locked himself in the bathroom for an hour, much to the dismay of the rest of the floor. His face had taken the brunt of the beating. Most of the blood had come from his nose, but he would have black eyes in the morning. Bucky had changed out of his filthy clothes and was waiting for Steve on the couch.

"Come sit down, Steve," he said. Steve gritted his teeth and collapsed onto the couch next to his best friend and lover.

"I fucked up. I'm sorry," he bit out.

"That wasn't 'fucking up'; that was losing control."

Steve folded his arms over his chest.

"Tell me you ain't gonna do that again," Bucky said.

"I won't."

"I don't believe you."

Steve turned furious blue eyes on his friend and was met with ice. The fire raging inside him began to fizzle out.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" he asked with a sigh.

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

"Pain is obviously not a deterrent for you, you blockhead. But I bet I know what is." Bucky leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He scrubbed his face briskly. "So now, when you get into fights and get your face busted up, you're gonna be my slave the rest of the day."

"Your slave?" Steve repeated.

Bucky nodded his head. "Whatever I want, you gotta do it. No matter how embarrassing it is."

"I don't see how--"

"Get on your knees," Bucky interrupted. His composure had turned frosty again.

"I--" Steve started again, but when met with the other man's cool disdain, he capitulated and did as he was asked, lowering himself onto his knees in front of the couch. He glanced at Bucky, but his gaze made him uncomfortable, so he averted his eyes.

"Take off your clothes. I don't want you wearin' anything until I say you can. Got it?"

Steve ached to tell Bucky where to stuff his orders, but he didn't--because he trusted Bucky, and Bucky wouldn't go nuts with this. Whatever this was. It certainly felt a lot weirder than getting punched in the face. He didn't like being told what he could and couldn't do, but damned if he wasn't a little turned on by what Bucky might have in mind.

So he took off his clothes and knelt naked on the floor. When he went to cover himself with his hands, Bucky pulled his arms away.

"No. I wanna look at you. I had to pull your dumb ass out of a fight you couldn't win, so this is my thank-you. You can't be trusted with control, so I'll take it off your shoulders. Just sit there."

Steve's cheeks reddened. Of course Bucky had seen him naked before, but not like this. The lights were on and there was nothing to hide behind. He could see all of him.

Bucky nodded, got up, turned on the radio, and grabbed a book from the bookcase. He sat back down, propping his feet up on the coffee table, and started to read.

Steve waited.

And waited.

And squirmed.

Without looking up from his page, Bucky unbuckled his belt and opened his fly. When his dick was free, he said, "If you're bored, you can play with this."

Steve's breath caught in his throat. Wasn't Bucky even going to look at him?

But it wasn't like he was going to turn the offer down. He inched forward on his knees and ran his fingers down the other man's length. Steve tentatively glanced up at the other man's face, but Bucky was ignoring him. He licked his finger and turned a page.

Steve pulled his hand back just as Bucky started to get hard. "Why can't we just go to bed?" he asked in a cajoling voice. "You can be as rough as you want."

"Because then you wouldn't learn anything. You're used to pain. This is different."

Steve sat back on his heels, confounded. He didn't understand what was going on inside him. He felt small and humiliated, but so eager to please, so desperate to be touched. Steve pulled the corner of his mouth down in a frown.

"You're obviously thinking too much. Why don't you put it in your mouth?" Bucky asked (commanded).

Arousal burned his stomach, making his cock twitch. Steve blushed at his reaction, but once again did as Bucky asked. He leaned over the other man's lap and took him as deep as he could. As he went to pull back and suck him off properly, Bucky put a hand on his head.

"I didn't say suck. Just keep it in your mouth."

Steve glared up at him, and Bucky smirked.

"Good boy," he said, stroking Steve's undamaged cheek. Bucky leaned forward at the waist, looking down at his naked body.

"You're doing so good, but you're droolin' a bit down there. You can touch yourself."

Steve went to grab his dick but Bucky interrupted him again. "Or," he said, arching one brow, "you could hold off. If you wait and be good for me, I'll fuck you stupid."

Steve flicked his tongue against the underside of Bucky's cock and watched as his pupils widened. The brunet's breath became a bit ragged.

"Can you do that? Can you be good?"

Hating himself and Bucky both (but secretly intrigued), Steve nodded.

"Alright, get up. Go in the bedroom and get yourself ready for me. You know what I'm askin'?"

Steve nodded again, released Bucky, and got to his feet. The bed was only half-made, so Steve threw the blankets back into place and lay down. Bucky soon joined him. He pulled off his clothes as Steve spread his legs. As soon as that sun-bronzed skin was within reach, Steve was grabbing for him, but Bucky danced out of his reach each time.

"I thought you said you were gonna be good," Bucky scolded.

"I--I am," Steve stammered, reaching for the Vaseline they kept at their bedside. He placed it between his legs as he opened it, took a dollop, and began working his fingers inside himself. He certainly used less finesse than Bucky did.

Speaking of the brunet, he was circling the bed with his dick in his hand. He was stroking himself as Steve roughly fingered himself.

"Take it easy, baby. This isn't about pain," he said.

By now, Steve was whimpering. His neglected erection strained against his stomach, bright red and dripping. "Please, Buck! I'm dyin' here! I'm sorry! I'll be good, I swear I will!"

Bucky climbed onto the bed, not quite touching Steve yet. "That, I believe," he said, running his hands up Steve's legs.

"The next time you think about putting your life in danger, you think about this, eh? This moment when you want me so badly but I'm tellin' you no. 'Cause next time, it'll be worse. Got it?"

"Yes," he sobbed, and Bucky took pity on him and brought their lips together in a desperate kiss. Steve latched onto him like he was dying with one hand. His other hand had grabbed Bucky's cock in an attempt to guide him inside.

"Easy, easy," the brunet said, brushing Steve's hand away and lining himself up with his entrance. For once, he didn't have to ask if Steve was ready, because Steve arched into him. The head of Bucky's cock breached him easily. The brunet lifted Steve's hips and drilled into him. He established a quick pace before wrapping his hand around Steve's erection.

He came almost instantly.

And came.

And kept coming until Bucky pulled out of him so he could take him in his arms. "I love you, Steve," he whispered, laying a kiss on the blond's ear. "I love you, you hear that? I worry about you. What do you need? Tell me what you need."

"Nothin', just don't go."

"I'm not goin' anywhere." He pulled Steve onto his lap and cuddled him close.

"I'm all kinds of confused," Steve admitted. He tucked his head under Bucky's chin. "I honestly loved and hated that."

"I know. That's why I thought it would work," Bucky explained.

"Where'd you learn that stuff?" Steve asked. Bucky shrugged.

"Guys talk on the docks, you know."

Steve did know, of course. He'd been down to visit Bucky at his job, many times. He was thinking about the smell of the briny air and the cry of sea birds when he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I had a lot to choose from, and this coulda been really long, so I hope this is okay!


	21. Day 21 - Shower Sex

When Bucky was a kid, he and Steve used to check out copies of National Geographic from the library. It was there that he saw his first pair of tits and a strange, bushy vagina and decided neither were for him. It was also where he saw images of Buddhist monks meditating under waterfalls; the water splashed over their shaven heads, and Bucky always wondered what they heard, what peace they could find in the roaring din of it all.

There was a waterfall not far from the Wakandan compound. Bucky managed to escape Steve's motherly clutches for a moment and slipped away. He wanted to know if he could find what those monks had been searching for. He wondered if he could shut his brain off for two fucking seconds and get some goddamned peace.

By the time he found the waterfall, his tanktop was soaked through with sweat--which was fine. He took it off anyway; admittedly not as smoothly as he would with two arms, but hey, who was gonna hold that against him? His pants and boots were harder to manage, but soon he was naked and wading into the small pond that fed off the cascade above.

A memory came to him: Steve looking out over the ocean and telling Bucky that he was scared of dying, of being lost in the ocean. He remembered how he told Steve that would never happen to him. God, what a fuckin' liar he was. He told Steve he would never be alone, and that was all Steve had been for seventy years.

Bucky was up to his waist. The water was so clear he could see his toes and a school of little fishies darting around his legs. In the oppressive African heat, the water felt marvelous on his skin. Bucky slipped under the water long enough to wet his hair before pushing his way towards the waterfall.

Just before he could step under the rushing waters, a voice called out to him. It was hard to discern over the noise, but Steve Rogers had a way of making himself heard.

"There you are! Been lookin' all over for you!" he yelled, looking painfully overdressed by the side of the pond. Bucky made a face (foolish of him to expect he could escape Captain America's surveillance), and then shouted back, "Come in! The water's great!"

Steve actually glanced around, like there might be someone watching in the African wilderness, before pulling his clothes off. And what a sight it was! For a moment, Bucky's brain actually was silent. Maybe what he'd been missing was being alone with his best guy.

Steve grimaced as he stepped into the water and was approached by the same school of fish that had curiously nibbled on Bucky's toes. "Damn creepy crawlies," he muttered under his breath, making Bucky chuckle.

"C'mon," he said softly, holding out his hand. Steve took it and inched into the water.

"Why are you out here?" Steve asked, taking a quick dip under the waterfall. With his hair slicked back and water dripping down his corded neck and bulging pecs, Bucky's brain once again fell silent (short-circuited, more like it).

"For a little peace and quiet," Bucky shouted over the water.

"It is sorta peaceful," Steve replied, looking around at the lush greenery and clear blue sky.

"There was something I wanted to try. C'mon," Bucky said again, pulling Steve toward the waterfall. They stepped underneath, letting the water fall over their heads. Steve scrunched up his nose and slicked his hair back. Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve's tiny waist and pulled him close. He rested his head on the blond's shoulder and reveled in the feeling of Steve's heart beating against his chest and water pounding against his head. A little tropical paradise just for them.

Steve lifted Bucky's chin with two fingers and searched his eyes through dripping lashes. Bucky rocked forward onto the balls of his feet and crashed their lips together. Their teeth clinked together before Steve put his hands on his shoulders and evened him out. Their tongues clashed, meeting, swirling, dancing. Steve pulled back and drew his lips into his mouth, savoring the taste of the other man there.

"I missed the taste of you, Buck. I missed all of you, but--"

"I'm so sorry. I never wanted to leave you alone."

Steve smiled sadly and pressed his fingers against Bucky's lips.

"This is all my fault. I let you fall. I didn't jump after you."

Bucky lifted his brows and would have protested if Steve weren't covering his mouth. The blond smiled again and moved his hand to Bucky's cheek.

"I made a lot of promises I didn't keep," the brunet said, "and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for what I'm gonna do."

Steve's brow furrowed. "What are you gonna do?"

"I gotta go back in. Into cryo. I'm scared," he said, shaking water out of his eyes. He knew now what Steve had felt, gazing out at the ocean. "I don't wanna hurt anyone."

"Buck," Steve sighed. "It's--it's okay. If that's what you need. I'll wait."

"You don't gotta be alone. You got friends now. I--I would understand if you were with someone else."

Steve gently pushed him back. "I would never!" he growled. Bucky whipped the strands of hair out of his face just as Steve grabbed his hips, bringing their somewhat flagging erections together. He wrapped his hand around both of their shafts and arched his hips into Bucky's.

"Could you imagine doin' this with anyone else?" Steve asked.

Bucky could only whimper in response.

Steve kissed him hard again and tightened his grip. With the water falling all around them, it was easy to find the right amount of friction. Bucky thrust into the other's hand, felt his cock slide against Steve's.

"I'll wait for you. Got that? Until the serum wears off and I'm old and frail, I'll wait."

"Oh, Jesus, Steve," Bucky sighed, looping one arm around the other's neck. His hips continued to beat a steady rhythm against Steve's.

Steve's head fell back on his neck, and Bucky knew from the erratic sway of his hips that he was close to coming. That was fine; so was he. He could feel it in the tightening of his balls, the twist of arousal in his gut. He came with a shuddering sigh, but Steve wasn't done with him. He turned Bucky around and slipped his cock in between his thighs. Steve thrust into that hot, slick space behind his balls. Bucky felt him brush against that sensitive pucker of flesh and shivered. A moment later, Steve was coming hard, painting Bucky's thighs with his release.

"I'll wait," Steve repeated. There were tears in his voice, but when Bucky turned his head, the water had already washed them away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another bummer. Sorry about taking my depression out on the guys.


	22. Day 22 - On the Desk

For a dollar a week (big money in 1936), Steve cleaned the office of Reuben Howell, a Brooklyn lawyer and statesman who lived on the corner of Livingston and Court. He'd show up every week on Friday just as Mr. Howell left for the day, dust, sweep, and lock up before he left. A dollar was almost too much to ask for about twenty minutes worth of work.

Or it would be, if Mr. Howell didn't get a little handsy after he'd had a few drinks in the afternoon.

Actually, Steve could even handle that--a pat here and a pinch here, no big deal. It was Bucky he couldn't handle. When he told Bucky that Howell would stay late sometimes on Fridays, he insisted on going with him, which was going to lose Steve his job. A dollar a week bought them groceries; it helped keep the lights on--and, furthermore, it was a job he could actually do. He wasn't like the other boys who graduated and could get jobs in construction or down at the docks. Steve had to take what he could get. If it meant a little pinch here and there, well, it wasn't as bad as most dames got.

Bucky was not one to be deterred, though. He marched right down to the office behind Steve, his tan arms folded over his chest, morosely chewing on a toothpick. He couldn't have looked more like a Brooklynite street tough had he tried.

"Don't do anything to blow this for me," Steve hissed before he knocked on the door.

"Take it easy! I won't do nothin' so long as he don't," Bucky replied.

Howell opened the door and saw the two young men. "Steve, hello," he said, "and who is this?"

"James Buchanan Barnes, sir. There's been a rash of muggings in this part of town, so I'm just walking Steve here and back from work. He's a little guy, you see."

Howell didn't look like he believed that for an instant, but he smiled benevolently anyway. "Of course, of course. I'm just on my way out. I'll get my things and be out in a moment."

Steve glared at Bucky over his shoulder as the door closed in their faces. A moment later, Howell returned with his jacket, briefcase, and hat, which he tipped at them both on his way out.

"See? Perfect gentleman," Steve snapped, entering the office with Bucky on his tail.

"Oh, I bet I find something that disproves that theory," the brunet replied. Steve sighed through his nose and set to work while Bucky took to opening drawers and filing cabinets.

"My ma is gonna be steamed if you lose this job for me, Buck," Steve warned him. "I know it upsets you, this guy touchin' me, but it's a compromise--"

"Your body should never be a damn compromise, you dummy!" He waved a handful of papers in Steve's general direction.

"Easy for you to say. Even if you didn't work at the docks, your dad coulda found you any job! Ma and I need every dollar we can get!" Steve wiped the dust off a bookshelf with a flick of his wrist.

Bucky turned back to his search with a soft harrumph. Steve went back to cleaning. He was leaning over Howell's desk when the brunet came up behind him and slapped a manilla file beside Steve's hand. "Ha!" he shouted.

Steve straightened, his shoulders brushing Bucky's chest, as he took the file. Inside, he found his graduation photo, his school transcripts, and a brief summary of his medical record.

"This don't prove nothin'. He checked up on me before hiring me. Lotsa people do that," he said, bending back over to polish the rich mahogany desktop.

"Now you're bein' willfully ignorant," Bucky accused. Still, the stupid, base part of his brain could only think of the possibilities that Steve's position held. He grabbed the smaller man by the hips and pressed his growing erection against his backside. Being eighteen, sex was never far from his thoughts.

"I think you're the one with bad intentions," Steve laughed, pushing back against him.

Bucky ran his hand up Steve's back, pulling his shirt free from his trousers. The tiny sliver of skin that was exposed made Bucky salivate.

"How about this: we find slick in here, it proves I'm right and you gotta quit," he said.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Not everyone uses Vaseline like we do, Buck. And do I quit before or after you fuck me across this desk?"

"After, of course," he said. He slipped his finger underneath the waist of Steve's slacks and ran the back of his finger against that smooth, hairless skin. The smaller man shivered and curled his hand around the rag he was holding.

"Or, you could just fuck me now and let me do my job until I can find a better one."

"Compromise," Bucky said softly. "I still don't like that he touches you. And I still think you shouldn't have to make compromises with your body. But I'll respect your decision, I guess."

"Wow, thank you! Almost like I'm a grown man!" Steve propped his chin in his hand and arched the small of his back, knowing from experience that it drove Bucky crazy.

"You're five feet tall and not a hundred pounds. Ain't a person on earth that would describe you as 'grown.'" Bucky rocked against him in such a way that made both of them moan.

"I'm a bit--taller than that," Steve grunted. He abandoned his cleaning rag and gripped the edge of the desk.

Bucky knelt on the plush rug underfoot and tugged Steve's trousers down. His ma hadn't taken these ones in, so they were still plenty loose. The brunet tugged both them and Steve's loafers off in one go. He left his shirt on, though. He liked how Steve looked, all bent over with his shirt tails rucked up above the swell of his ass. The blond was so short that he had to lean up on his tiptoes to lie flush the desktop. The muscles of his ass and thighs quivered with the effort. Bucky's mouth went dry.

He tore through the desk drawers looking for anything he could use to slick Steve up. The blond watched him, chin on the desk, a challenging glint in his eye. Bucky huffed at him again and rifled through the bottom drawer. There, he found a small glass bottle, which he slammed on the desk triumphantly.

"What's that?" Steve asked. He was touching himself now, slowly working his shaft.

"KY surgical jelly. Rich people stuff. Ha!" Bucky wagged his finger in Steve's face before coming around the desk. "No petroleum jelly for you today, baby." He dragged his fingers over Steve's ass before grabbing the muscle hard. Steve let his head fall on the desk with another grunt.

"This is pretty expensive stuff. It'd be a shame if I were to waste it." Bucky uncapped the bottle and poured a more than liberal amount down the crack of Steve's ass, who sucked in his breath. Bucky watched his hole flutter against the sensation and licked his lips.

Bucky eased his little finger into the other man. He was pleasantly surprised by how slick the stuff was. It was like going from cooking over a campfire to cooking with gas. From the slightly sluttish moan that escaped Steve, he was impressed, too.

"Like that?" Bucky asked.

"Feels good," Steve grudgingly admitted. His back arched off the desk as Bucky added another finger. He left off stroking himself and went back to gripping the desk.

"I don't know what feels better: the feel of you clenching around my fingers, or knowing I was right."

"Oh, shaddup, you prick," he gritted out.

"I wanna be inside you, Steve. You have no idea how pretty you look. You're blushin' to the tips of your ears."

"Then screw me already!" Steve's voice came out as a reedy whine.

Bucky couldn't resist when Steve made demands, and he didn't have the time to make him beg. He slicked himself up with the surgical jelly and was surprised by how easy it was to breach the other man. It felt like silk, sliding inside him. Steve arched once again as he let out a high, stuttering moan.

"Oh," Bucky said simply.

"Ah!" Steve returned.

"Jesus--"

"--Christ!" the blond finished. "Harder! Oh, please, move! Faster, anything!"

Bucky let his control slip a bit and held Steve by the hips as he rocked into him. Steve moved back against him the best he could on his tiptoes.

"Nng!" Steve cried. "Buck--Buck, please. I know you can fuck me harder than that!"

"Is that how it is?" Bucky panted. He reached around and began to jerk Steve off as he snapped his hips against his ass.

"Y-Yes! Ah! I--ain't gonna--break!"

"Tell me I'm right and that old codger wants to fuck you," the brunet replied, grinning evilly. Steve pounded his fist against the desk, knowing he was on the losing end of this battle of wills.

"You're right, okay? You're right! Now, please?!"

Bucky let the reins of his control drop completely.

It was over pretty quickly after that.

Bucky sat in one of the office's arm chairs, smiling snugly as he watched Steve clean up the evidence of their fun. The brunet hummed a little tune to himself.

"So, Steve--"

"Shut up."

"Remind me again--"

"Shut up, Buck!"

"Just what you said there at the end, before the 'fuck me, fuck me, fuck me--'"

"Buck!"

"Oh, right! You were saying that I was right, and you were wrong!"

Steve got up and threw the filthy rag at the other man's chest.

Bucky's cackles chased Steve out of the office--but not before he snagged his dollar from its hiding place behind a picture frame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun with this one. I hope you did too!


	23. Day 23 - New Position

There was a flash blue among the gray of the camp, a flicker of chestnut hair. Steve chased after Bucky through the camp in Southern France. It'd been raining steadily for days now; morale was low and incidents of trench foot were high. It seemed like Bucky had been avoiding him since Azzano. Steve knew it had a lot to do with the way he looked now, no matter what Bucky said. They finally had a day away from operations and Steve was desperate to spend time with his lover--though the status of that particular title was in jeopardy. It felt like eons since they'd made love.

"Buck! Hey, Bucky!" he shouted. The brunet stopped on his way into the small two bedroom cottage that he and Steve were sharing. As captain and sergeant, they enjoyed certain privileges--a reality Steve still couldn't seem to grasp. Even when he was a captain in name, if not in practice, Steve enjoyed only the barest of comforts (especially when the USO girls got his number).

"What's up, buttercup?" Bucky chirped, leaning against the doorjamb with a cigarette dangling from two fingers.

"Not much! I--can we go inside?" he asked.

"Ooh, sounds serious," the brunet replied, grinning cheekily. He took a long drag of his cigarette and gazed up at Steve through his eyelashes. Steve recognized the look for what it was. This was catty-slut Bucky, trying to make an aggressive suitor go away. Steve chewed on his lower lip as he ushered Bucky into the cottage.

"Have you been avoiding me?" he asked, holding his arms akimbo. Bent slightly at the waist, Steve had no idea how clear it was to see the small man in his posture.

Bucky dropped his a cigarette to the floorboards and pawed at it with his boot. "Honestly, yeah, I was." He gestured at Steve broadly. "It's all a lot to get used to."

"I know," Steve replied, rubbing his hand over his taut abdomen. That he couldn't feel the hollow under his ribs was unreal to him. He kept misplacing clothes because none of them looked like his.

"I know it's dumb, Stevie--" He ran his hand through his greased hair and looked genuinely abashed.

"No, I understand. Probably better than anyone. I wish I could take a break from me too." Steve laughed sheepishly. "I keep bumping into things. Bangin' my elbows. But there's a lot more I can do now too."

"I'm sure," Bucky replied, curling his lips in a smile, "but I think you're misunderstanding me. I've been stayin' away from you because I wasn't sure I could keep my hands offa you. All I can think about is getting my mouth on you! And I don't think you want to punch the blue ticket yet."

Steve groaned softly as he closed the distance between them and practically fell into Bucky's arms. It felt a little wrong not being completely engulfed, but right in all ways that were actually important.

"Take off your clothes, sweetheart," Bucky said as he dropped his jacket and loosened his tie. Steve was moving a bit more slowly, taking time to fold his fatigues before setting them aside.

Bucky chuckled softly as he shook his head from side to side. "Mm. I've seen you before, but not for long enough. I don't think I'll ever have enough time."

Steve nervously scratched his chest. His other hand itched to cover his genitals. Bucky leaned in and kissed Steve's collarbone. His hand slipped over the swell of Steve's ass. "And when I was done lookin' at you, I'd have to spend another eternity touchin' you."

"God, Buck, you got no idea the thoughts I've had. Now that I can do all the nasty things I've wanted to you for so long." His hands were on Bucky's hips, making a slow trip upwards.

"What kind of thoughts?" the brunet asked, nuzzling the soft spot under Steve's ear.

"Well, this, for one," he said, lifting Bucky up, and, while he was in midair, swinging him toward his body. Bucky instinctively wrapped his arms and legs around him. He got Steve's intention right away. The position aligned their hips perfectly. Bucky bit his lower lip.

"Not much leverage," he replied, bouncing his hips against Steve's erection.

"We could make it work," Steve said, grasping Bucky's ass in both hands.

"Ah!" he gasped, looking at Steve in absolute delight.

"Or what about this?" the blond asked, gently pushing Bucky off him. Bucky looked amused as Steve turned him around, bent at the knees, and lifted him under the arms.

"Oh God," Bucky groaned as his body slammed against Steve's, his cock sliding right between his cheeks.

"This one--do me like this," he pleaded, wrapping his shins around Steve's thighs. The blond couldn't believe how easy it was to support all of Bucky's weight and still have the energy to hammer into him, if--

"You're not ready, baby. I mean--everything got bigger, if you know what I mean," Steve said.

"Says you. When I heard we had a break from operations, I mighta took the liberty of doin' myself up, should something like this happen," Bucky laughed. When he moved against Steve in this semi-reclined position, the blond could feel every inch of his body against his own.

"I love it when you surprise me," Steve growled, lacing his fingers over Bucky's chest so he could hitch him a little bit higher. Bucky canted his hips a bit so that his lower back arched away from Steve's chest, and with a little fumbling, they fit together like two puzzle pieces.

"Oh," Bucky said. Steve couldn't see his face, but he knew from the silence that followed that he was making that I'm-not-in-pain-but-yes-I-am face with the scrunchy nose and bared teeth.

"Want me to pull out?" Steve asked, even though every part of him rebelled at the thought of sliding out of that slick heat surrounding him.

"Fuck no," Bucky breathed, "I just feel like I'm being fucked by a train."

"Ah. Well, now you know how I felt. Lemme know when I can move."

_Soon, soon, God, please, soon, I can't take much more--It's been too long--_

"Go ahead. Easy," Bucky replied, and Steve rolled his hips. Bucky caught his rhythm quickly like he always did and moved with him, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do besides get fucked.

And it wasn't long before Steve's control started to slip, and the wet slap of their flesh and Bucky's muffled cries were the only sounds in the small room. It shouldn't be possible, what Steve was doing. But Bucky thanked his lucky stars that it was. Steve was inside him so deep and fucking him with the force of goddamn nature itself.

Steve came first, but only by a few seconds. Bucky's release splattered against the floor; he could feel Steve's dripping out of him. The blond man carried him over to his bunk, where they both collapsed bonelessly.

"Better living through better chemistry," Bucky mumbled, and Steve laughed. He was already growing hard again inside him. It was a long moment before he stirred, like he was embarrassed about his stamina.

"I had some other things in mind I wanted to try," he said slowly, grinding his hips against Bucky's ass.

"You're the captain," the brunet replied. "Today, anyway. Tomorrow, I wanna see what that sweet bubble butt feels like against my balls."

"Bucky!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](https://gaysexpositionsguide.com/bully/) is the position in question.


	24. Day 24 - With Toys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I messed up. Today was supposed to be Loud Sex, but I got mixed up. That'll be tomorrow instead.

"Natasha. Nat, really. No."

Steve's weak protests went unheard as the deceptively slim redhead pulled him bodily into the adult toy store. In an instant, he was surrounded by a variety of indecent lingerie and phallic objects in a variety of garnish colors--as well as an underlying funk, like mildew or unwashed sheets.

"I could never--where do these even go?" he asked. If his face got much hotter, his hair gel was going to catch on fire.

"The same place everything goes," Natasha answered. She continued to hold Steve's hand, which was a comfort he was unwilling to forego. Ever since the team found out about him and Bucky, they had been trying to throw "spice" into their decades old romance, which, according to Steve, wasn't really necessary. Bucky had expressed passing interest, but it was contingent on Steve's approval. And looking at a candy-colored dildo with a dolphin attachment, that was unlikely to happen.

Natasha went over to a display advertising "p-spot stimulators," whatever that was, and Steve got distracted by a rack of magazines. _Honcho_ , _Torso_ , the names were silly, but the men in jock straps on the cover were not. They didn't have blue pictures like this before the ice. Intrigued, he plucked one off the rack.

"You're here to get a Valentine's Day gift for your boyfriend, champ. Besides, that's what the internet is for now," Natasha said. Steve turned a page.

"I know what the internet is for," he replied without looking up. The redhead snatched the magazine out of his fingers.

"To think I ever believed you were naive and innocent," she smirked, a gesture Steve returned.

"You did not. Tony might have, but not you."

Her lips quirked in that enigmatic way of hers. "Anyway, let's look at the prostate stims."

Steve did as he was told, but he wasn't very impressed by the idea of something buzzing up his or Bucky's ass. There were dildos of all sorts, but wasn't that what his dick was for? Really, he couldn't see how any of these things could improve the quality of their sex lives.

"What about butt plugs?" Natasha asked.

"That sounds unpleasant, but lead the way."

When faced with a glass display of plugs, Steve put his hands on his hips, his brow furrowed. "And what is the appeal?"

"Humiliation is one," Natasha said, running one finger over a plug with a fox tail attached. "But mostly it feels good to have something filling you up while someone sucks you off, for instance." When Steve still looked skeptical, she added, "And it keeps you stretched. You could wear it all day and be ready at any time--not to mention your mind will be on one thing all day."

Steve waggled his head from side to side. Natasha rolled her eyes. "You got your phone on you?"

"Of course," he replied, handing the device over from his front pocket. She rolled her eyes again. Only Steve would be so blase with such a personal device.

With Steve's phone in one hand and a plug with a jeweled base in the other, she paid at the register and then herded Steve into one of the even fouler smelling private "rooms."

"Nat. Gross," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"Take your clothes off. We're gonna give Bucky the best Valentine's ever."

"No. Absolutely not."

"Do it or I tell everyone about the time you got drunk on Thor's mead and cried for two hours over that ASPCA Sarah McLachlan commercial."

Steve huffed quietly. "Fine," he said, and stripped down. It was just Nat. It was like getting naked during a physical; her gaze was (mostly) clinical.

Natasha scrolled through Steve's messages (he never deleted anything, it seemed) and selected the thread with Bucky. The last thing he'd sent was a bored looking selfie from one of their debriefings. Bucky had simply replied with a heart emoji. Well. This was probably going to blow his socks off.

"You guys don't send nudes?" she asked.

"Why would we? We see each other naked all the time."

Yet another eye roll. "Alright, turn around and look over your shoulder at the camera. At least attempt to be sexy."

He rested his hands against the wall and turned. Steve looked more pensive and vulnerable in the picture, which was sexy in its own way, she supposed. Natasha sent the picture to Bucky and waited.

" _What's this?_ " Bucky responded.

" _I want you_ ," she typed back. Then to Steve she said, "Put the plug in. I know you have lube in your pocket."

"Is this what friendship is like in the future?" he asked. He turned to face her as he lubed up the plug and worked it in. It wasn't uncomfortable, per se, but he couldn't imagine wearing it long. "Now what?"

"Turn back around. And like, spread your cheeks a little."

"Seriously, this feels weird," Steve said. He obeyed anyway, instinctively making a hollow out of the small of his back as he reached around with one hand to show the jeweled head of the plug peeking from his flesh.

"You're a goddamned natural, Steve. This avenging stuff doesn't work out, you're set."

Natasha caught him mid-sigh, which unintentionally gave him a desperate, needy look.

Bucky had sent back, " _What are you doing right now?_ " with a little winky face. Natasha sent the next picture along with the message, " _Wishing you were inside me._ "

When she received just a picture of a very impressive, very hard cock held in a cybernetic hand, she handed the phone back to Steve. "Keep it in, get dressed, and go find him. You're welcome."

"What did he say?" Steve asked with a frown. When he saw Bucky's dick pic, he flushed and hid the screen against his chest. Natasha looked particularly pleased with herself.

"I can get laid on my own, you know!" he shouted after her as she left. Steve threw on his clothes (as much as he could with the plug inside) and chased after her.

"Like a guy from the 1940s! Welcome to the future, kid!"

Steve couldn't keep up with her. He stood on the sidewalk, confounded. He pulled his phone back out and called Bucky.

"Baby, you better be on your way home right now," the brunet warned. His voice was a low growl that went straight to Steve's cock. Natasha was right, having the plug in against his prostate made arousal that much more intense.

"Why don't you come get me?" he asked.

"I'll be there in five," Bucky replied, and hung up. Steve didn't want to ask how he knew where he was. Sometimes it was best Steve didn't know all of Bucky's little tricks.

Exactly five minutes later, Bucky pulled up on Steve's bike and suddenly Steve was very aware of his erection pressing against the seam of his jeans. The brunet looked at him with wild eyes and bit his lower lip.

"You still wearing it?" he asked softly.

Steve nodded mutely, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. Natasha was right about it being humiliating too, especially one with rhinestones, for Christ's sake.

"Climb on," Bucky said, and Steve did so. The rumbling of the engine underneath him made him grit his teeth. Alright, so maybe there was something to the vibrating after all. He clutched at Bucky's shirt as he pulled away from the curb.

"Oh God," he softly groaned. He pressed his hips against Bucky's back to relieve some of the pressure. His hands moved up the other man's chest as he squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face between his shoulder blades.

"You okay there, Stevie?" Bucky asked. Even over the wind, Steve could hear the smirk in his voice. He just held him tighter.

"You better not come before I get in you," Bucky called over his shoulder.

"Then pull over and find us a place now!" Steve shouted in his ear.

Bucky swerved into the driveway of the Marmara Park Avenue, switched the engine off, and handed the keys to the valet. Steve barely noticed the grandiosity of the venue as he pushed Bucky inside. There was a wet spot on the front of his jeans, and the plug was sending waves of pleasure through the pit of his stomach. Steve only had to show his face at the front desk before being handed a key. Normally he'd hang around and sign autographs for the staff, but he was in a hurry.

"Remember the time you fucked me in the elevator of the Empire State Building?" Bucky asked as they stepped inside the car that would take them to their room.

"Remember when elevators didn't have cameras?" Steve snapped in response.

"Do you really care if someone sees us?"

Bucky pushed him into the corner of the elevator and shoved his hand down the front of Steve's jeans. He bypassed his cock entirely and fingered the head of the plug instead. When Bucky rocked it back and forth, it hit all the right places. Steve grasped Bucky's shoulders. His head smacked against the wall of the car with a clang.

"Thank you for this," the brunet said. "I wanna try it too. I wanna try everything with you."

"There was a lot of 'everything' in that shop," Steve replied.

"What, like sexy underwear?"

Bucky's relentless toying with the plug was driving Steve to distraction. He closed his eyes and concentrated. "That and lots of other stuff I've never seen before."

"You've seen sexy underwear. You wore some that day--"

The elevator dinged as it reached their floor, interrupting Bucky's irritatingly precise memory. Steve shoved him backwards into the hallway. He moved slowly to their room, but Bucky stayed behind him, watching.

"I've changed my mind," Bucky announced when they finally entered their room. Steve looked at him over his shoulder. If he didn't get some kind of relief soon, he was going to die. Bucky couldn't just "change his mind!"

"I wanna watch," he told Steve, who must have been making a scary face. "While you jerk off. I want to watch."

Steve wrinkled his nose slightly. It wasn't what he wanted, but in the interest of Valentine's Day, he could acquiesce. "Alright," he said, "but it'll be a short show."

The blond shrugged out of his clothes and climbed on the bed. Bucky joined him, kneeling by his feet. Steve settled on his back, drew up his knees, and spread his legs. Bucky sucked his breath. "Christ, that's hot," he said, and arched a brow, his head falling to the side. "And kinda cute."

"We gonna do this?" Steve snapped, spitting into his hand. He took his cock in his hand.

"You want me to tell you the sparkly thing sticking out of your butt is manly as hell?" the brunet snorted.

Steve just grunted and roughly stroked himself. He was already so close. As he touched himself, the spasms of pleasure that wracked him made him clench around the plug, which, in turn, had him swearing and arching off the bed.

"Oh, baby, look at you. You are somethin' fuckin' else," Bucky purred. He put his hands on Steve's knees and spread him wider. With his eyes locked on Steve's, he took the head of the plug between two fingers and rocked it back and forth.

That was all it took. Steve shut his eyes and actually shouted his release. He came so hard his come splashed against his chin and painted his chest with stripes.

The shutter sound on Bucky's phone echoed in the now silent room.

Steve's eyes snapped open. "Hey! Gimme that!" He went to snatch the other's phone away, but Bucky held it close to his chest and kept Steve at bay with his metal arm.

"No! I need it for when you're away on missions!"

Steve sighed, closed his eyes, and collapsed back on the bed. "Well. Happy Valentine's Day anyway."

Bucky set his phone aside and slithered up between Steve's legs, lapping at the drops of semen on the blond's chin as he settled on top of him.

"But Stevie, the night is still young. And I told you. I wanna try."

"Do I get to take pictures too?" Steve asked, arching a brow.

Bucky grinned back at him. "You can take whatever you want."

They left a large tip for the maid before they left the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: Butt plugs are super fun for both parties! And Honcho and Torso both are no longer in circulation, but I collect back issues of both, so...


	25. Day 25 - Loud Sex

"This is so embarrassing."

Bucky stared up at his hands, which were pinioned to the wall above his head with some kind of super-powered mag-cuffs. Not even his metal arm could wrench itself free, though the mechanisms inside practically screamed in effort. It was causing a great deal of pain to his shoulder blade, too.

Steve, in uniform, had a hold of the cuffs in both hands and one boot braced against the wall by Bucky's hip as he pulled. "We can still get out of this," he grunted. Beads of sweat shone on his brow underneath the harsh industrial lighting.

"You're running out of time, gentlemen," a voice shouted over an intercom. "Just give us what we want!"

Who "they" were was a group of second rate "patriots" who still believed the Winter Soldier was a Soviet assassin and spy, and what they wanted was for Steve and Bucky to have sex. Loudly. There were no cameras in the room they were trapped in (that Bucky was trapped in; Steve could leave any time if he was willing to abandon the other man, which, of course, he wasn't), but there were microphones.

They wanted the recording as blackmail, or perhaps as some sort of twisted proof of their depravity, not realizing that neither man would give a shit about being overheard making love. Well, they certainly didn't believe him when Steve told them, in any case.

Steve released the cuffs with a disgusted sigh. "The only way we're getting out of here is if we do what they want," he said with a sigh.

"Just go, Steve. Even if we screw like rabbits, they won't let me go," Bucky grumbled. He watched as Steve paced from one end of the room to the other, pushing his hands through his helmet-tousled hair.

"They said they'd kill you. I can't take the risk that they'll follow through," he replied, throwing his hands down. The blond bit down on the fingertip of his glove and pulled it off, and then repeated the gesture on the other.

"You're really going through with it?" Bucky asked.

"I don't see any other way, do you?" Steve tossed him an unreadable look and ruffled his hair again. Bucky pressed his lips into a bloodless line and sighed. He felt worse for Steve than he did himself--especially since he was the target here. Steve still maintained a modicum of decency; no one expected the same from the Winter Soldier.

Bucky was startled out of his dark thoughts by Steve's hand on his cheek. "C'mon," the blond man purred, tilting his head slightly, "let's put on a show."

"Steve, are you sure?" Bucky asked. He wasn't opposed to the idea, but he thought for sure Steve would be.

"Let's kill them a little later, okay?" He smiled, eyes flitting down to Bucky's lips. He felt himself soften.

"Okay," he agreed. Steve cupped Bucky's ass through his leather tac pants and leaned in to kiss him. Steve's tongue flicked against his lips, and Bucky moaned as the other man invaded his mouth. Steve dominated the kiss, massaging his ass with both hands now.

"Steve," Bucky gasped.

"Mm?" he replied, moving one of his hands to the collar of Bucky's cotton undershirt. He looked up at the brunet through his eyelashes--that fuckin' look that always turned Bucky's knees to water.

"I love you," he stated.

"I love you too, Buck," Steve replied, and curled his fingers under the shirt and pulled. The shirt came away in Steve's hand in pieces.

"Holy shit," Bucky mumbled.

"You gonna let me hear how much you want me?" Steve asked. His fingers danced over Bucky's chest until they found his nipple. Steve's thumb teased the sensitive nub until it was as hard as a piece of penny candy. Bucky swallowed audibly and pulled uselessly at the cuffs.

"Let me hear you," Steve repeated, and dipped his head to take Bucky's nipple in his mouth. At the touch of Steve's perfect teeth, the bound man unintentionally cried out.

"Ungh! Steve!" He lifted his legs and wrapped them around the blond's waist. His boots squeaked when he crossed his ankles behind Steve's back.

Steve pulled off his nipple with a triumphant grin. "I love it when you get loud, Buck. I've never been good at dirty talk, but I swear, your mouth always gets me goin'."

"Too bad I'm not in a position to suck your cock, then," Bucky replied with a grin.

"You could probably find a way. I've learned never to underestimate you," Steve laughed.

"Says the indomitable Steve Rogers."

"Where do you think I learned it?" he asked, suddenly dropping to his knees. Bucky adjusted himself so that his legs were draped over Steve's shoulders. He could feel the blond man's breath against his erection, even through his pants. The advantages of disavowing underwear, he supposed.

"You gonna suck me off?"

"Thinkin' about it," Steve replied, nuzzling his crotch. "Seems rude not to, considering what I'm gonna do later."

"Fuck me?" Bucky asked, grinning.

"Mm hm," the other agreed. There was a flash of pink as Steve licked him through his pants. Bucky arched into his mouth with another groan.

"Quit teasin'," he panted.

"Maybe there's something to havin' you all tied up. Now you can't boss me around," Steve said, slowly unzipping the brunet's fly. His erection bobbed free, but Steve ignored it to pull his pants down lower.

"Me? Bossy? Look who's talkin'," Bucky replied. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at Steve. His hair was messy and his face was flushed, but his jaw was set in determination. Bucky was in for it.

And sure enough, Steve launched into him with a broad lick against the underside of his dick. He lifted Bucky's cock in one hand and traced intricate patterns on his balls with his tongue. The brunet inadvertently clenched his thighs around Steve's head as he moaned up at the ceiling.

Steve patted his flank and Bucky forced himself to relax. "Nobody gives head like you do, Steve. Ah, God!"

The blond had pulled one of his balls into his mouth and was drawing on it gently. His thumb worked the sensitive spot just under the head of his dick, which was slick from his pre-ejaculate.

Steve released him with a faint pop before shifting his hold on him so that he held both his cock and balls in one hand. He was humming softly, some Sinatra song, "Fly Me to the Moon", maybe, as he circled Bucky's asshole with his tongue. Bucky sucked in his breath.

"I thought you said you were gonna fuck me," he said. His voice was shaking.

"I thought I said I was gonna make you scream," Steve replied.

Bucky pulled at the cuffs again, desperate to touch the other man. That he couldn't even run his fingers through Steve's hair frustrated him enough to make him tear up. Meanwhile, Steve flicked his tongue against him, quick, darting movements that made Bucky clench around him again.

"Please, Steve--c'mon--"

He was rewarded for his outburst by the flat of Steve's tongue undulating against him, slow and deliberate. The blond man spread Bucky's knees and pushed them toward his chest, exposing more of him to that wet mouth and wicked tongue.

"You are too good at this. How did you get so good at this?" Bucky whined. The fingers of his metal hand screamed as he tightened his fist.

Steve glanced up at him just as Bucky looked down. The blond's eyes were all pupil, and Bucky had to admit that he looked quite pretty with strands of spit and precome webbing his lips.

"Is that all you got?" Bucky asked him. He was bluffing, and it was clear from his heaving chest and shuddering thighs that he was bluffing.

And Steve, the bastard, bit him.

The sound Bucky made was less a scream and more of a yelp that turned into a whimper when Steve sucked on the sensitive ring of flesh and worked his tongue inside him.

"Fuck you! This isn't fair!" Bucky wailed. His toes curled inside his boots as he wiggled his hips, wanting more, needing more. He didn't realize he was once again squeezing Steve's head between his thighs until they were forcibly parted and Steve got to his feet.

"This is all about you and somehow you're complaining?" he asked, wiping his mouth with one hand. He went over to a small metal shelf where a variety of bottles and tubes sat. His fingers walked over the labels until he plucked one free.

"I wanna touch you," Bucky replied, stamping his foot.

"That's not how it is." Steve returned to him and set the bottle aside so he could wrestle Bucky's pants all the way off--though he left his boots on. He doused his fingers in the fluid from the bottle and thrust them between Bucky's legs.

"I'm sure you're plenty loose, but--" he said, and shrugged.

Steve's fingers inside him felt like heaven. Here was something solid, something he could grind against. He let his weight drop onto Steve's hand as he wrapped his legs around his waist.

"Steve! Oh, God! I need your cock inside me! Fuck me! Christ, I can't take anymore!"

Bucky used his arms to rock his body against Steve's crooked fingers. If he could just keep this up, he might be able to--

Steve pulled his hand away before Bucky could come around it. The brunet tossed his head in despair, but honed in immediately when Steve unzipped his fly. He reached inside his pants with one hand and said (with a characteristic smirk), "You're ready, right?"

"Fuck you! But yes, yes, YES! Stick it in or I will end you, Steve Rogers, I swear it!"

"Bossy," Steve repeated. He took himself in one hand and Bucky's hip in the other. "Stay still. I can't get lined up if you keep wiggling."

Bucky flailed against the cuffs one more time before falling still. Steve braced himself a little before pushing inside Bucky all at once.

He grunted, his face going red as he bit back a cry. But Steve was having none of that; he pulled out of him and slammed into him again. This time Bucky did shout.

Every thrust elicited another yell from the brunet, until his voice was lifted in one long, continuous moan. His dick was caught between their bodies, but that was more than enough friction to satisfy. Steve paused long enough to lift Bucky's hips a fraction so he pushed in even deeper. The blond's balls were slapping against his ass, and his voice joined Bucky's in a low moan.

Bucky's breath caught in his chest as he came--not only over himself but on Steve's uniform too. Steve thrust into him for a few beats more before letting go with a sigh.

When he caught his breath, Bucky said, "JARVIS, end recording. File in folder: American Glory; title: 'Fuck or Die.'"

"Phew!" Steve used his sleeve to mop up the sweat on his forehead before releasing the cuffs. "I never thought I would be grateful Tony put these in after you came back from Wakanda."

"'As a safety precaution.'" Bucky mimicked Tony's voice, and not very well, either. He rubbed his flesh wrist and shook out his hands.

"Thank you for that," Steve said softly, stroking Bucky's cheek. "Maybe now I won't miss you so much when you're away."

Bucky turned his head and kissed Steve's palm. "It's just for a month or so. And Natasha will be with me. You worry too much, baby."

"I know, I know." Steve pulled the other man into his arms and kissed the top of his head. "Wanna take a shower?"

"Wanna carry me?" Bucky countered. "You deep-dicked me so hard I can't walk right."

Steve laughed softly as he bent to scoop him up.

Elsewhere, Tony was flipping through his colleagues' personal files, which they were stupid enough to save on JARVIS's server. Natasha didn't make that mistake, Clint had only photographs of his children and dogs, and Steve--

What was American Glory?

It sounded like a project name, but it couldn't be a mechanical spec. Steve was a brilliant tactician, but technology seemed to spontaneously combust around him. What, then?

"Fuck or Die"? That was intriguing. Not what he expected from Steve. Perhaps the Winter Asshole, then.

He opened the file.

It took him about a minute to realize what was happening on screen and throw his tablet in the fireplace.

"Agh! Agh! Gross! JARVIS! Lock down Steve's files from me and anyone else but him and Barnes!"

"Done, sir."

"Do you think Steve actually slept with my dad?"

"It's very possible, sir."

"AGH!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this has elements of roleplay, but the actual day for that will be much different. I hope you enjoyed it! See you tomorrow!


	26. Day 26 - Can't Make a Sound

Three men stood in front of the tiny Steve Rogers, cracking their knuckles and slipping out of their suspenders so they could kick his ass unencumbered.

And still Steve was yelling at them, telling them they couldn't talk to a lady that way, that they were no good brutes and he'd give them what was coming. As he leaned forward onto the balls of his feet, he looked so frail a stiff wind could knock him over.

Just as the men were about to light into him, another man broke through their line and made right for the petite blond.

"Oh no. Not today," Bucky told Steve, throwing the little man over his shoulder without a second glance at the thugs behind them.

"Buck! C'mon, I woulda had them on the ropes!" he protested, trying to wiggle out of the other man's grasp. Bucky's arm was like iron over the small of his back, pinning him in place. It was more than just humiliating, being carried off like a sack of flour.

"You woulda been a smear on the sidewalk, punk," Bucky replied, mounting the steps to their apartment. Steve expected to be returned to his feet once they hit the landing, but Bucky carried him all the way to their front door and over the threshold. Only when they were standing on their ratty, secondhand rug did Bucky finally set him down.

"What'd you do that for?" Steve shouted, hands on his hips.

Bucky loomed over him. "You remember what I said about what would happen if you got into a fight you couldn't finish?"

Steve thought back to how he had kneeled at Bucky's feet and held his cock in his mouth like he was an object. A slave. About how hot he had been he'd begged for it.

His ears started to feel hot.

"Yes," he replied softly, ready to explain how this wasn't his fault, that they'd been harassing a lady and causing a scene. Bucky cut him off with an abrupt gesture.

"No more talkin'! Not til I say you can. Not a sound. Not a peep, Steve, you got it?!"

"But Buck--"

He was interrupted when Bucky put his finger against his lips.

"Get dressed. We're gonna go to Barney's," he said.

Steve frowned.

"You drive me to drink, you know that? Those guys coulda killed you. You know how easy it'd be to hide your body in a dumpster or building foundation somewhere? You ever think about how I'd feel if you up and disappeared one day? I'd be broken, Steve. I couldn't take it."

While he spoke, Bucky undressed and put on a suit. Steve dawdled behind him. He didn't look as sharp as the other man in his secondhand three-piece. Probably because it previously belonged to a thirteen-year-old kid. He wanted to ask why Bucky wanted to go out if Steve wasn't supposed to talk, but didn't. Bucky knotted his tie for him and gave it a sharp little tug. "I love you. You think I'm selfish for wantin' to keep you around a little longer?"

Steve shook his head and Bucky met his eyes with that exasperated, forlorn look on his face and kissed him.

"Anyone says something that pisses you off tonight, you don't say nothin', got it?"

He nodded and stood on his tiptoes for another kiss. Bucky chuckled against his lips and held Steve close.

"I kind of like you like this. Like a sweet little kitten," he said. Steve bit him and glared.

"Ow! Alright, alright, let's go."

The walk to Barney's was a peaceful one by necessity. Their hands brushed from time to time, more often as the sun set and the closer they got to the bar. The moment they walked through the doors, Steve had his head on Bucky's shoulder.

The band was already playing raucous swing music; a few guys were dancing. Somehow the Lindy Hop was a lot more impressive when it was two fellas doing it, Steve thought. Bucky claimed a booth in the back so Steve could sit beside him.

Bucky ordered two Jack and Cokes and passed one over to the little blond. Steve was surprised by how peaceful he felt not having to argue or step in. It was a huge weight off his shoulders not to feel obligated to intervene. He sipped at his drink and rested against his lover when he slipped his arm around his shoulders.

Bucky was gently stroking and massaging Steve's paint-stained hand, which was surprisingly erotic, when an argument broke out at the bar. A young kid was refusing to go with a group of rowdy sailors, and Steve tensed. Only Bucky's cool eyes on him kept him from jumping to his feet. Feeling almost physically pained as he watched the young man being pulled to his feet, Steve bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.

But then a few of the huge construction workers from Queens stepped in and averted the crisis.

"See? You're not the only decent person out there. You don't have to do this alone," Bucky said, lifting Steve's hand to his mouth.

Steve smiled as the tension eased out of his body. Bucky was right. He couldn't fix everything that went wrong in the world. He sipped at his drink and relaxed a little more against Bucky's side. Bucky lifted his hand and stroked Steve's hair. It was a little on the long side, just starting to curl over the tops of his ears and against the back of his neck.

The blond practically purred as Bucky ran his fingers through his hair. His hand landed in Bucky's lap, on top of his cock, which stirred under his touch.

It was dark in the back booth, and no one in particular was watching them. Steve turned and let his lips brush against Bucky's ear. The brunet shivered.

"What do you want me to do, daddy?" he whispered, emboldened by the alcohol.

Bucky grunted and shifted so that his now hard cock wasn't pressing so painfully against his zipper.

"Take me out. Stroke it," he said softly, not that anyone could hear them over the band. Steve deftly unzipped him and freed him from his trousers. The little blond was looking at him so heatedly, adoringly. Bucky glimpsed a flash of pink as Steve's tongue darted out to lick his lips.

He had to wonder how effective his "behavior adjustments" were when Steve was so obviously enjoying himself. He stroked Bucky's cock slowly; his eyes were dark with excitement and desire. Steve squeezed him, applying pressure in just the right spots. Bucky unsuccessfully tried to stifle a moan, and Steve held a finger to his lips to indicate silence. The grin on his face was absolutely wicked.

Who was in control here?

"Come sit on my lap," Bucky said, and Steve leapt to obey. He even pulled his pants down slightly, guessing Bucky's intention.

If they got caught, they'd be kicked out--probably permanently. Or, shit, they might get free drinks for years. It was hard to say.

In any case, his cock had slipped between Steve's thighs, in that tight little channel that was slick with sweat and the blond's precome. Bucky took Steve by the hips and guided him in a gentle but steady rhythm. Steve almost broke a rule and whimpered--Bucky felt the sound against his chest--but he kept quiet. He palmed his dick through his trousers instead.

Steve's head fell back against Bucky's shoulder as they slowly, silently made love. The brunet's cock rubbed against Steve's asshole with every thrust; Steve felt the tension in Bucky's thighs and knew when he was getting close. That's when Steve turned his head and whispered, "I love you."

He felt the wetness of Bucky's release between his legs and wished he could have come with him. But he knew Bucky would take care of him later.

If he was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I disliked this prompt. It kind of goes against everything I find sexy. So this might have been disappointing, and I'm sorry. :(


	27. Day 27 - Rough Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a mistake! Bucky shouldn't have two arms in this, but I'd already finished writing it when I remembered. Sorry!

Steve could hardly believe it was happening. Bucky Barnes was sleeping in the room right next to his. Sure, they had spent a night together here and there during the Sokovian Accord Affair, but it was different than sharing a space, than living together again.

Steve hopped off his feet and pumped his fist, accidentally knocking an expensive vase from the end table. Luckily, he caught it just in time. Okay, that was embarrassing, but no one had seen him. T'Challa assured him that neither of their rooms were being monitored. He hoped that was so, because he was about to get up to No Good.

He slipped through the adjoining door, into Bucky's room. Of course, T'Challa didn't put them in the same room. It would have been presumptuous. Bucky was curled up on his side, facing away from him. The man was naked except for the sheet that covered him. Steve could hear small mechanical noises as Bucky flexed his fingers. He was asleep.

Steve tiptoed around the bed so he could see Bucky's face. His mouth turned down in a frown when he saw that beautiful face all screwed up with a bad dream. He was sweating, mumbling, twitching. Steve put his hand on Bucky's shoulder.

The brunet sprang off the bed and lunged at Steve. His metal arm went across his throat as Bucky slammed him against the wall.

"Buck--Bucky--"

The pressure increased before Steve could finish his thought. Bucky's eyes were blank, unseeing. Steve hated to do it, but he punched the other man in the ribs--hopefully just hard enough to wake him up. Bucky responded by throwing him on the floor and himself on top. He straddled Steve's hips and punched him in the face. The taste of copper flooded Steve's mouth. Bucky drew his fist back to hit him again--and then blinked.

"Steve?" he mumbled. He looked around, getting his bearings, before he glanced down at Steve again. Blood was running freely from his mouth now; Steve could feel it. Bucky put things together in an instant.

"Oh, fuck! Steve, are you alright? Jesus, what did I do?"

"You were having a night terror," Steve explained, propping himself up on his elbows. He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of one hand. "I get them too. Once woke up under my kitchen sink, if you believe it. Think I wanted to feel small."

Bucky completely ignored him and cupped Steve's face in both hands. He was looking for damage, as if he were still breakable.

"I'm okay! This is nothin'. I mean, you shot me, ya know," Steve chuckled.

It was the wrong thing to say. Bucky's face went blank once again. He got up and stepped away from Steve. The only indicator of his distress was a tremor in his flesh hand. Steve got to his feet and reached out for Bucky--his Bucky--but the other man dodged his grasp.

"Buck, please. I'm not hurt. I'm not mad. I wanted to spend the night with you--"

"No! Fuck you, Steve! Leave me alone!"

Steve felt a lance go through his heart. Bucky had never spoken to him that way, and he didn't know what to do. He was a fighter, but he couldn't fight Bucky. Steve wrapped his arms around himself and stared down at his bare feet. Those weren't tears clouding his eyes, he told himself. Maybe it would hurt less if Bucky shot at him again.

"Will you go? Just get the fuck out of here! I don't want you here, get it?!"

Steve's chin dropped closer to his chest. His vision cleared when the tears slipped over his lashes. He sniffed, ran the heel of his palm against his cheek and nodded.

"Okay. Sorry," he finally said, and made for his room.

Bucky clicked his tongue and grabbed the blond by his arm. "Steve, baby, wait. I'm sorry. I'm--I'm just fucked in the head." He pulled Steve into his arms and ignored the little hiccuping sobs that we're muffled against the side of his neck. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"Then don't push me away! Not again," he said, shoving Bucky's shoulder roughly. "I'd rather you kill me than that."

"Don't say that," Bucky cooed, petting the short hairs at the back of Steve's neck.

"I'll say what I want," Steve railed back. He stamped his foot just like he had when he was sixteen. Bucky had to laugh a bit.

"Okay, okay. You wanted to spend the night in here?" Like he could deny Steve anything when he actually cried. Not that he could recall it happening often. The blond nodded morosely, putting on a bit of a show, Bucky suspected. "Alright, climb in."

Steve peeled off his t-shirt and climbed into the rumpled bed. Bucky, still quite naked, got in after him. He ran his metal hand along Steve's rib cage, up and down, just trying to soothe him. Steve's face was still red and blotchy. He could never hide anything with his fair Irish skin.

At some point, Bucky got caught up in staring at Steve's chest, his smooth pecs, rosy pink nipples. That trail of golden hair that disappeared under his pajamas. Bucky scooted closer to him and laid his lips over the hollow of Steve's throat--

\--and found himself staring up at the ceiling with his arms pinned above his head.

"'Fuck me', Buck?" Steve hissed, his nose bare inches from the other man's. "Fuck you! I understood when you left. You weren't in your right mind. But then you didn't come back! You left me! You said you'd never leave me!"

"Steve," Bucky murmured. The raw pain in the other man's face was agonizing to see.

Steve pulled Bucky's arms down to his sides and pinned them there with his knees. The brunet could have gotten free easily, but didn't. Steve kissed him roughly, forcing his tongue inside his mouth. He held Bucky's face, stroked his neck, and squeezed his shoulders. Bucky moaned into Steve's mouth and arched up into him.

His hands, callused from the shield, ran down Bucky's chest. Steve rubbed his palms against his nipples until Bucky moaned again, and then switched to rolling them between his fingertips.

"Ah! Steve, that's a little rough," he said softly.

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I just--I want--I need to feel you."

"I'm right here," Bucky replied. He spread his legs in invitation. Steve met his eyes; they were full of fear and trepidation. Bucky thought back to that winter when his father had found Steve sucking him off. The blond had been desolate. That was how he looked now.

"Make love to me, Steve. Whatever you need, I'm right here."

Steve looked lost, like he didn't know what to do with him. He ran his fingers down Bucky's abdomen, which fluttered under his fingertips.

"I could punch you. For not comin' back," he said. "I'm so angry. And I've gotten so used to punchin' my problems."

"You can punch me if you want," Bucky offered. "I mean, I shot you."

Steve shook his head. "No," he said, and leaned down to kiss him again. Again, he used bruising force. Freeing Bucky's hands, he slid down the length of his body. His strong hands gripped Bucky's thighs hard enough to leave bruises. Steve kissed his way down the brunet's chest and stomach, hickeys trailing in their wake. They faded almost as soon as they appeared. Bucky writhed and gasped under his touch.

"You taste the same, Buck. It's all the same," Steve said. His tongue parted Bucky's thick pubic hair, and the brunet clenched his teeth, but still a keening moan escaped him.

Steve grasped the other man's cock at the base and licked the drop of moisture from the head of his cock. Bucky's breath whooshed out of him. He coulda come just from that, that pink scrap of a tongue and those imploring blue eyes staring up at him.

"Exactly the same," Steve mused.

Bucky snatched the lube from the nightstand drawer and pushed it into Steve's hand. "Fuck me now, Steve. I need to feel you too," he pleaded.

Steve was breathing hard through his nose as he doused his fingers in KY jelly. "Rich people stuff," he muttered tightly, sliding two fingers inside the other man. Bucky sat up on his elbows to watch. Steve's shoulders were hunched with tension as he stretched him out, fingers flashing in and out of his body. Bucky licked his lips and let his head loll on his neck. Steve shoved his knees higher, slipping deeper inside him.

"Ah, Steve, baby--"

Without much warning, Steve sat up on his knees, grabbed him by hips, and slammed home.

Bucky was too surprised to stifle his scream.

Steve kept hold of Bucky's ass with one hand and stroked his cheek with the other, but he was fucking into him so hard that his grip wasn't steady. For a moment, Steve's hand closed over his throat.

"No!" Bucky growled, knocking the other man's hand away.

"Sorry," Steve panted. He grasped his shoulder instead, almost bending Bucky in half as he snapped his hips against his ass.

"S'okay. It's okay," Bucky sighed, fisting his dick in time with Steve's frantic thrusts. He was vaguely aware of how his feet were bouncing on his ankles, but he was more concerned with the warm hands on his body and the hard cock threatening to split him in two.

His desire was like a snake coiled in his belly. The harder Steve fucked him, the more it unraveled until it lifted its head to strike. Bucky came hard. His body clenched so violently his toes popped. Semen drooled over his fingers.

Steve shifted his hold on him. He hugged both of Bucky's thighs to his chest, the brunet's feet now pointed at the ceiling, and rocked into him. Twenty seconds or so later, he groaned and spilled into him.

Bucky--and Steve too, to a lesser extent--was covered in bruises, but by the time he caught his breath, they were gone.

"I'm sorry. I'm an asshole," Steve said, collapsing next to him.

"No, sweetheart. When I told you to stop, you did." Bucky nestled his head next to Steve's shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't come back. I hope one day you can understand and forgive me for leaving you alone."

"The future is so lonely," Steve said softly. "I lie my way through the psych exams. I don't let them know how broken I am without you."

Bucky thought about his time in and out of the ice. Even when his mind was blank, he'd known something was missing. He just didn't know it was Steve.

"No more lying, baby. If you're in pain, you let those doctors know. They can help. It's nothing to be ashamed of, to need help."

"Yeah," Steve replied, taking Bucky's hand and twining their fingers together. "You too. If you need help, you get it."

Bucky sighed. He already decided to go back in the ice until T'Challa could fix him. He decided the moment he looked down at Steve's bloody face.

They clung to each other the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with the idea of rough sex between these two in this particular story line. I just didn't think pain would be something either one would be into, so we get emotional trauma instead. Wee!


	28. Day 28 - Roleplay

Steve Rogers wasn't stupid. He didn't perform as well in school as Bucky, and he didn't have half the street smarts (because of Bucky--the older man made sure certain aspects of the world didn't touch Steve), but he wasn't stupid.

So when Bucky's birthday came around, Steve was bound to figure something out to surprise him.

The day marked a full year of living on their own, and a little more since his ma had passed. Life had changed pretty drastically for them, but both not for the worst--for once. The economy was picking up, at least, even if the cause for that caused an acidic tang of panic to fill Steve's mouth. Because in the event of a war, they would come for Bucky and leave him behind.

Steve shook his head. He could worry about that tomorrow. Right now, he had a mission.

Bucky would be at the docks for another three hours at least. Steve put on his nicest shirt but rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and left the collar open to his chest. Since his mother died, he'd gotten pretty good at taking in his clothes himself, but he'd made a mistake with the pair he was stepping into. They were unfashionably tight, hugging the curve of his ass in a way that was almost obscene (if you asked him). He didn't put any product in his hair, but he took a little soot from the inside of a candle lantern and rubbed it over his closed eyelashes. When he peeked at himself in Bucky's shaving mirror, he liked what he saw. The soot made the blue of his eyes pop.

Normally, Steve hated anything that compromised his already fragile masculinity, but secretly--secretly, he felt a little thrill when he felt sexy.

He made his way down to the docks, ignoring but kind of revelling in the looks he got. Steve arrived and stood in a small space between two crates, about fifty feet from where Bucky was working. Some of his coworkers noticed him standing there and started catcalling and whistling--they knew about him and Bucky, of course, but they hardly begrudged them for it. For the most part, they were petty criminals but okay guys.

Bucky, wearing nothing but a pair of leather gloves and his trousers, finally looked up to see what all the commotion was about. His eyes landed on Steve, and his face settled into one of exasperation and affection. He jogged over, bracing his arm between the crates.

"Hey, baby. What's going on?" he asked, his brows coming together in confusion.

Steve felt his cheeks burn as panic set in. Was he going to do this? Really?

"I heard it's your birthday. I came down to see if you wanted some company."

Bucky laughed softly, still obviously confused. Then he paused to actually look at the way Steve was dressed. Steve saw the moment it clicked into place.

"How much?" he asked with that excited, roguish, and somehow boyish grin.

Steve put his hand against the other's sun-warmed skin. His thumb caressed the hollow of his throat. "For you, it's free. Whatever you want."

"Whatever I want," Bucky repeated, licking his lips. "Okay."

Bucky took him under his arm (much to the excitement of the other men) and led him a few blocks away to a little hotel--more of a flophouse, actually--and paid for a room for a few hours.

The brunet flopped down on the bed with his arms folded behind his head. Steve stood by the door and started to unbutton his shirt with one hand.

"So what can I do for you, mister?" he asked, lifting his chin. He let his fingers trail over the skin he exposed, inch by inch.

"I believe I was offered everything," Bucky grinned, popping the button on his fly.

"You like the way I look?" Steve dropped his shirt to the floor and turned, letting Bucky see the back of him while he unzipped his pants.

"Yeah, I do," Bucky replied. "Look at that ass, huh?"

Steve looked over his shoulder and arched a brow. "I can't, mister. Do you wanna see what I've got on underneath?"

"Oh God, yes. You're so beautiful, sugar. This is the best birthday gift a fella coulda asked for."

Steve pushed his trousers down over his hips, revealing the real present, what he couldn't give to Bucky as Steve Rogers. A friend of his from Barney's had recommended a place to him that specialized in garments for certain discerning clients. The little group had pooled their money and got Bucky a gift.

Underneath his trousers, he was wearing lacy baby blue underwear. Steve would have died of embarrassment if he were really acting as himself right now. Instead, he turned, letting Bucky see his erection straining against the lace.

Bucky looked from the underwear to Steve's face and back down again. His mouth had gone slack, his eyes wide.

"Okay, c'mere," he said softly, holding out his arms. Steve went to him gladly, kneeling on the bed between Bucky's spread thighs. The brunet squeezed his ass through the flimsy panties and groaned.

With a soft laugh, Steve leaned in and captured Bucky's lips. With little nips and kitten licks, he coaxed Bucky's tongue into his mouth, where he drew on it for a moment before biting him.

"Ouch!" Bucky drew back and covered his mouth. "That ain't what I paid for!"

"Hey, fella, you didn't pay. You also said 'everything,' remember?" Steve leaned forward and pushed Bucky down onto the bed. He held his wrists down, but it was a just a token. Bucky flipped him onto his back, reversing their positions.

"And I meant everything. Like how you taste," the brunet said, sucking a hickey onto Steve's neck, "and how you smell," he went on, burying his nose in his abdomen, "and how you feel." Bucky ended by rubbing his cheek against Steve's arousal, trapped in lace.

"After all, you're my birthday present, wrapped up pretty just for me."

Bucky grinned up at Steve wickedly. It was the blond man's turn to stare back slack-jawed and wanting.

Bucky ran his fingers underneath the hem of the lace, hooked them around the crotch, and pulled them to one side. Steve gasped and released the breath as a moan when the other man rubbed his fluttering hole with the rough pad of his thumb. Steve had done more than get dressed up nice to prepare; his asshole swallowed Bucky's thumb easily.

"You're already ready for me? I like that," Bucky growled.

"Ah! Please," Steve begged, pushing himself down on Bucky's thumb.

"Oh, pretty baby, I really oughtta be payin' you for this," Bucky groaned, freeing himself from his trousers. Steve grinned, replacing Bucky's thumb with two fingers of his own.

"A guy with a dick nice as that never oughtta pay," he replied, biting his lip as he worked his fingers in and out. His other hand went to his mouth; he chewed on the tip of his little finger coyly.

"Jesus Christ, Stevie," Bucky sighed. "You better be slick enough for me or I'm just gonna come on your stomach. God, you're beautiful."

"Plenty slick for you, mister," Steve replied, and spread his legs wider. Bucky put one hand on Steve's bony shoulder and another around the base of his cock as he guided himself inside the other man. Steve arched his back as Bucky entered, releasing his breath only when Bucky was fully sheathed inside him.

When Steve opened his eyes, the other man was staring down at him like he was Jesus Christ himself descended from heaven. "Happy birthday, Buck," he sighed.

"Thank you, baby," he replied, looping his arms underneath Steve's shoulders as he moved against him. Steve turned his face away, not wanting Bucky to see how taken aback he was by the friction of his cock against the silk lace.

Bucky palmed him through the panties and got a high-pitched moan in response.

"This is too much," Bucky groaned. "I'm coming! Oh shit sonuvabitch--"

His eyes rolled back in his head as he tensed, tendons standing out in his neck as he came. Steve watched in rapt fascination, feeling each wave of Bucky's release empty inside him.

Steve petted Bucky's hair away from his forehead when he collapsed on top of him.

"So should I tell the guys you liked your present?" he smirked.

"Mm," Bucky agreed. Words were still beyond him yet.

"Good, because I have two more pairs at home in red and white."

"Red, white, and blue. Wouldn't have expected anything else."

Steve laughed and arched against him. "Tell me when you're good to go again. I'm still hard as a rock under these things."

Bucky lifted his head and gave him a slow, lazy grin. "I ain't in the habit of suckin' off the prostitutes that come onto me at work--"

"Good!"

"--but in this case I'll make an exception."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My boyfriend suggested the last day be about Steve and Bucky's mission in "Jerkmenistan," but I said no. He was pretty bummed.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter. This is a happy little fetish of mine.


	29. Day 29 - With Food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Booze is food, right? Booze is totally food.

Bucky was going to set the world on fire.

Or at least Thor. He would settle for the God of Thunder with his charming smiles and gropey hands all over his Steve.

Thor had arrived at the Tower on a bolt of lightning, and Steve had been glued to his side ever since. Apparently they were pretty good friends--they'd gotten real chummy while Bucky was busy being a human popsicle. Right now they were sitting at Tony's bar drinking exotic beers. Bucky had declined their invitation to join them, but sat on a plush recliner not too far away.

Ugh, just look at him with that stupid beautiful long hair and those ridiculous broad shoulders. Every time he put his hand on Steve's arm, Bucky's anger turned a little darker.

He was the goddamned Winter Soldier. He could kill a man with his thumb--he could also bring a man to orgasm with it, if last night was any indication, but still!

Steve and Thor shared a great big laugh that almost made Bucky destroy the chair he was sitting in. Steve looked over his shoulder at him and made a face--a sad face, a come-over-and-sit-with-me face.

Well, fine. Bucky got to his feet and approached them, slinging his arm over Steve's shoulder and laying a big, wet kiss on his cheek. Steve laughed and scooted over to make room for him. He ended up half-sitting on Bucky's lap.

"Thor, this is my partner, James Barnes. We grew up together," he said. "Bucky, this is Thor, God of Thunder."

"Very pleased to make your acquaintance," Thor said, offering his hand. Bucky reluctantly shook it.

"Same," he said. He clutched Steve more tightly.

"I brought you a gift, Steven. You mentioned the last time we talked that you couldn't get drunk off of Midgardian alcohol, so I brought a jug of mead." And he produced it from somewhere in the folds of his cape.

Steve's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Thank you! I mean, this stuff is foul, but it's effective." He took the obviously heavy jug in his arms and patted Thor's shoulder affectionately.

"Buck, c'mon, let's go get shit-faced."

His interest now piqued, Bucky followed Steve out of the bar with only one parting glare to the massive Asgardian. Thor just arched his brows. Was Bucky being immature? Sure, but emotionally he was only twenty-nine.

In their apartment, Steve pulled two beer steins down from the cabinet and clumsily poured the dubious liquor.

"Gotta warn you, Buck, this tastes worse than cough syrup in the thirties, but it does the trick," he said, pushing one of the mugs towards him.

And Christ, he wasn't kidding. It was awful.

Steve laughed at the face Bucky pulled until he took a swig from his own glass.

"You like that guy? He your type?" Bucky asked. After two swallows, he was already starting to feel it: heat in his cheeks, a pleasant looseness in his gut.

"You're my type, asshole. No accountin' for taste, I guess. I wondered how long you were gonna sit there and glare."

"Sorry if I don't like seeing a guy pawin' all over my guy," Bucky replied.

"C'mon, he was hardly 'pawin'' at me. Thor's just--affectionate," Steve said. His cheeks were flushed. He wiped his mouth with one hand and grimaced as he swallowed.

"Yeah, sure, 'affectionate.' Affectionate enough to slip it to you, I bet."

"Don't be crude."

Another round was poured and out came their poker set. As always, the chips were set aside and their clothes were bargained instead. Steve was an amazing poker player--strategically. His poker face, on the other hand, was garbage. Especially when he was drunk. Bucky had him naked in about an hour, by which time they were also absolutely hammered.

"Bring the jug to bed," Bucky suddenly announced, throwing his cards down.

"W-What? Why?" Steve asked, his eyes blinking not exactly in unison.

"Maybe it'll fuckin' taste better if I drink it offa you."

"Uh. Okay," he agreed. He sort of weaved to his feet, swaying dangerously before steadying himself against the table. He was half hard and flushed down to his navel. Bucky, despite being just as drunk, decided he should carry the jug into the other room. He only spilled a little of it.

"How--How do you want me?" Steve asked as he climbed on the bed. His arms gave out from underneath him, leaving him ass-up on the blanket.

"That's not bad," Bucky slurred, placing his hand on Steve's back. He pushed down and sent the other man sprawling face first into the bed. "This is better, though."

Steve started laughing--giggling, really--and Bucky inevitably got caught up in it too. "Sit still, you prick, or this is gonna get everywhere," he chuckled.

"'S gonna get everywhere no matter what I do," Steve replied, but he steadied himself anyway.

"Okay, here we go," Bucky sang, pouring the mead between Steve's shoulders so that it ran down his spine and pooled in the small of his back. Steve's skin erupted in goosebumps, but he actually shivered when Bucky leaned down and sipped the liquor from reservoir he made.

"Taste better?" he asked.

"It's still the most god awful thing I ever tasted, but the delivery is nice." Bucky flattened his tongue and ran it up the length of Steve's spine.

"I wanna try," he announced, flipping over and spilling what Bucky hadn't managed to drink. The brunet's clothes were quickly disposed of and the man pushed onto his back.

"Where you plannin'--" was about as far as Bucky got before Steve poured the mead into his navel and the slight hollow of his belly. Steve lowered himself and slurped the alcohol from Bucky's stomach--which tickled so badly his entire body convulsed before he erupted into raucous laughter.

The sheets were a mess.

"Here--here--let's try this," Bucky said when he caught his breath. They were sitting knee to knee. Steve looked as delighted as he had when he was ten and discovered comic books for the first time. He was fuckin' beautiful, even if his eyes were swimming.

Bucky took a small mouthful of the mead and leaned in to kiss him. His fingers tangled in the back of Steve's hair as he opened his mouth to him. Steve wasted no time diving right in. Most of the liquid dribbled out of Bucky's mouth, but the other man was determined to chase it. His lips and tongue moved over Bucky's chin, delved into the hollow of his neck, and lapped at the rivulets running down his chest. The brunet unabashedly moaned and fell back against the pillows. Steve followed him down.

"I'm gonna suck--your--dick," Steve hummed, tapping Bucky's hipbone with each word for emphasis.

"I mean, sure," Bucky replied. He ran his hand over Steve's arm and clumsily twined their fingers.

"'Cause you make the prettiest noises."

"Pfft. I do noOHT!" he yelped. His train of thought abruptly derailed when Steve swallowed him down. Any semblance of finesse Steve might have possessed was gone, and all that was left was good old American hard work. Bucky clutched the pillow behind his head as Steve attempted to suck his cock out by the roots. His strong hands were underneath Bucky's ass, trapping him inside the wet heat of his throat. Steve's saliva dripped down his balls and Bucky muffled a shout in the pillow.

"Oh! Baby, please!" he cried, trying to roll onto his side, away from that unbearable heat and suction. Steve released him with a soft gagging sound and rolled him onto his stomach.

"I love it when you call me baby," Steve slurred. "Makes me so hot. With your little--" He imitated Bucky's gasps and moans.

"I always call you baby. An' I don't sound like that," Bucky replied, his voice muffled by the pillow. Steve poured more of the liquor down the crack of Bucky's ass and licked it up. Bucky squirmed and made noises very much like the ones Steve had just parroted at him. "Ah! Mn! Baby, come on!"

Steve didn't let up; he worked him open with the same effort he sucked him off. Just when Bucky didn't think he could take anymore, Steve shifted behind him and rubbed the head of his cock up and down his spit-slick cleft.

Bucky curled his fingers around the headboard and rattled it in his frustration. "Goddammit, Stevie!"

"You're right. Enough playin' around," Steve murmured. Bucky looked at him over his shoulder as he slicked himself up. Steve pushed inside him and Bucky sighed. Fuckin' finally.

Steve planted his hands on either side of Bucky's head as he thrust into him. His head was spinning, and the air felt very warm. He wasn't quite sure when Bucky passed out, but it was probably around the same time Steve's erection started to flag. Ultimately, he ended up curling up next to Bucky's side on the damp, sticky sheets, and falling asleep.

Bucky woke the next morning with a slight headache and Steve's lips against the back of his neck.

"Good morning, Buck," he whispered.

"Morning, sugar," he replied, wiggling back into him. Steve clutched him tightly around the middle. "Did we make it last night? I can't remember."

"No, you passed out," Steve replied.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"You still jealous?"

"'Course," Bucky replied. "You're my baby. I'm not gonna let some Norse god with fantastic hair put his hands all over you. You'll forget all about me if you ride the lightning."

Steve broke into laughter behind him. "I love you."

"I love you too."

 


	30. Day 30 - Whatever Pleases You

The driving rain made Bucky's words nearly run off the note he'd written Steve, but the blond man had committed them to memory. He asked to meet him in Howard's lab, which Steve thought was a little strange, but they grabbed their moments in this war whenever they could.

When he got to the lab, he knocked briefly before entering. There was no one inside, thankfully. Steve slipped in and looked around. The lab was full of all kinds of crazy things--including himself, he supposed. There were still days he didn't recognize his own reflection.

With a soft smile, he sat down on one of the examination tables to wait for Bucky.

About three minutes later, Bucky entered the lab. "Steve? Stevie?" he called out.

"Over here, Buck!"

Bucky, looking both roguishly handsome and kind of like a wet kitten, appeared between two machines. "Hey, baby. Why did you ask me to meet you here? There's a hundred other--"

"I didn't ask you. You asked me," Steve replied, holding up the damp sheet of paper.

"Oh shit. We were set up." Bucky put his hands on his hips. "Howard!"

"I didn't think you'd figure it out that quickly." Howard's voice came over an intercom. Steve crossed his arms over his chest, unnerved. If Howard were to tell anyone about him and Bucky, his reputation and career would be ruined. God knows what they would do to Bucky.

"Don't worry, Steve, I'm not going to tell anyone," Howard said, "but I want in on this."

"No, Howard!" Bucky shouted at the ceiling. "You come out of your hole, rat!"

There was a kind of groan before Howard stepped into view. Steve thought about that movie, _The Wizard of Oz_ , which made him remember how Bucky had cried when the magical world had been shown in beautiful technicolor.

The same man was leveling a gun at Howard's head.

"I'll kill you if you say one word about Steve," he said.

"Stop, stop, I can only get so hard, James," Howard purred, holding both his hands up mockingly.

"Bucky, put it down!" Steve shouted.

Bucky wavered and finally sighed. He holstered his gun.

"What do you want, Howard?" Steve asked.

Both Howard and Bucky rolled their eyes. "He wants to fuck you. What have I been telling you this past month?" Bucky snapped.

Steve looked down. He was used to Bucky, the older men at Barney's hitting on him, and basically no one else.

"He's right," Howard replied. "Well, half-right. I want to fuck you both."

"Ew," Bucky replied.

"At once," Howard went on.

Steve drew his brows together and tried to think about how that would work. Who would be in the middle? He looked from Bucky to Howard and back again and realized it had to be him. Bucky would need a buffer.

Wait, what was he thinking?

But then he caught Bucky's little appraising glance in his direction.

"So whaddya say?" Howard asked, giving them both a grin that must have gotten scads of women into bed.

"Well," Bucky said softly.

"We have conditions," Steve stated. "One, I'll be between the two of you."

"Obviously," Bucky and Howard said at the same time.

"Two, I think Bucky and I both would appreciate a nice bed for a night."

"Done. Any other demands?" Howard asked.

"An American breakfast afterwards," Bucky said.

"I could use new socks," Steve said slowly, and Bucky hid a laugh behind a cough.

"My gun could use some adjustments," the brunet added.

"Alright, alright, enough. Whatever you want, it's yours."

Howard flew them all to his flat in London, a flight that should have been a lot tenser than it was. The war had mellowed them that way. Bucky fell asleep against Steve's chest, while he quietly chatted with Howard. He let the engineer put his hand on his thigh and allowed himself to feel a little thrilled.

At the flat, Steve and Bucky took a real, hot shower in the marble-tiled bathroom while Howard watched.

Bucky kept throwing looks at him over Steve's shoulder as he lathered up the blond's backside. He grasped handfuls of Steve's ass and waggled his brows at Howard.

"Stop it," Steve said softly, though he smiled and bit Bucky's earlobe. He worried it between his teeth and made him gasp. Howard leaned forward and lit a cigarette.

Bucky turned his head and captured Steve's lips. Their tongues met, danced, and played. Steve moaned and shoved Bucky up against the wall. His thigh went between the brunet's legs. Bucky purred into his mouth.

"Aren't you two plenty clean now?" Howard asked.

Bucky chuckled and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Steve scrubbed his face.

"We're guests, Howard. Don't be pushy," Bucky said coyly, twining his arms around Steve's neck.

"Mm," Steve agreed, resting his head on Bucky's shoulder.

"You two. I could make so much money off you two," Howard said.

"Let's go to bed," Steve suggested.

Two fluffy towels later, Steve and Bucky were naked on Howard's bed. Steve could pass out on the downy mattress for ages. Then there were two naked men on either side of him. It made him anxious; he instinctively rolled towards Bucky.

His lover put his hand on his waist and kissed him deeply. Steve hitched his knee up around Bucky's hip. Howard ran his hands up Steve's back and flank as he kissed the back of the blond's neck.

Howard was a more aggressive lover than Bucky. He slipped his fingers into the downy cleft of Steve's ass. The blond yelped into Bucky's mouth.

Bucky, however, was more possessive. He bit Steve's lower lip and hauled him closer.

"Christ! Stop it, both of you! You have to share. Work together."

Howard lifted his head. "You've been with Steve for years," he told Bucky. "Wouldn't you like to see what he looks like with a real man?"

Steve groaned.

Bucky glared at Howard, but sighed through his nose. "Steve, are you sure about this? You're going to let him fuck you?"

Steve looked over his shoulder at Howard, who was getting impatient. His arousal was pressing insistently against his ass.

"He's not gonna fuck me. I'm gonna suck him off while you fuck me," he decided.

There was a silent conference over his head, after which both Howard and Bucky shrugged.

"Sounds good to me," Howard said.

"Thank God," Steve sighed. He flipped onto his knees and kissed Howard, pushing him back against the headboard. The man grunted and pushed his fingers through Steve's hair.

Bucky kissed his way down Steve's spine and swirled his tongue around the base of his tailbone. The blond whimpered against Howard's lips.

"Oh, Captain," Howard growled, surging forward.

Bucky gripped Steve's hips and canted them forward, spreading him. He glared at Howard over Steve's broad shoulders. Howard arched an brow as he pushed the blond's head down into his lap.

"Don't be rough with him," Bucky snapped.

"It's okay, Buck," Steve replied.

"He likes it," Howard smirked.

Steve bit Howard's belly, which was a bit fleshier than Bucky's, earning him a soft hiss of pain. "I'm not one of your whores, Howard. Don't treat me like one, or next time I'll bite something more sensitive."

"Alright, alright."

Steve considered Howard's cock as he stroked him with one hand. He was smaller than Bucky, who who had gone back to eating him out. His tongue circled his entrance and Steve bit back another cry.

"Steve," Howard said softly, "I'm sorry."

Steve dropped his head as Bucky finally breached him. Howard surged forward, nudging Steve's lips with the head of his cock. Steve opened his mouth and took him in.

Bucky pulled back and watched as Steve sucked Howard off. If he ignored that it was Howard, it was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. Steve was moaning softly as the other man thrust into his mouth. His eyes were closed, his brows furrowed. Bucky sucked on his lower lip as he watched.

"I want to see you fuck him," Howard said, breaking him out of his reverie. "Please," he added.

"Okay," Bucky said softly, working his little finger into Steve. The blond cried out around Howard's cock.

Howard tossed him a bottle of slick. Bucky worked him open slowly, the whole time watching Steve bob up and down on Howard's cock. He looked like he was enjoying himself--they both did, but Bucky could give a shit about Howard. Steve pulled back far enough to swirl his tongue around the head of his cock before going back down again.

Bucky slicked himself up, grasped Steve's hips, and pushed himself inside. The blond man released Howard to cry out and grit his teeth. The engineer rubbed his back and stroked his face.

"You're beautiful," Howard told him.

"So fuckin' beautiful," Bucky added.

Steve took Howard's cock in his mouth as Bucky started fucking him in earnest.

"You aren't half bad either," the engineer said, tossing his chin at the brunet.

"Eh, ditto," Bucky said with a shrug and a smile. His hips pushed Steve forward onto the other man's cock.

Howard was moaning; Steve was making all sorts of lovely noises. Bucky sighed in perfect contentment, closing his eyes as he rocked into Steve.

Steve steadied himself with his hands on Howard's hips so he could push back against Bucky. Bucky got the idea and wrapped his hand around Steve's cock and stroked in time with his thrusts.

Howard gripped the back of Steve's head and groaned as he came. The blond let him shoot down the back of his throat as he spilled over Bucky's hand. The engineer pulled back, letting Steve collapse against him as Bucky slammed into him. He let out little cries and soft gasps as Bucky kept pounding into him. Howard stroked his hair.

Bucky came with a groan, his hands slipping up Steve's back. He fell on top of him, his cheek settling in the hollow of Steve's shoulders. They fell on top of each other like dominoes.

"American breakfast, Howard, with sausage," Bucky muttered.

"Soft bed," Steve mumbled.

"I got it. Let me just--"

The video feed ended there.

Seventy-three years later, Howard's son would be going through some things in his father's vault. He found a film canister labelled "Trip to Paris - 1944," and, feeling kind of nostalgic, dragged out an old projector and threaded the reels. As a peace offering, he invited the two horny grandpas who lived downstairs to a private screening.

"Why would Howard be in Paris in 1944?" Steve asked. It was a good question, seeing as the city had been occupied until August. Had Howard been there? Both Steve and Bucky were out of the picture by then.

The film started rolling, showing a stationary shot of a bed. Steve tensed.

"That's not Paris; it's London."

"He's right," Bucky agreed, smirking.

"How would you know that from just a bed--"

Steve entered the shot, naked, and fell on the bed. Bucky and Howard joined him a moment later.

"Oh. Oh no. No no no," Tony groaned, scrambling for the projector. He got there just in time to see his father put his fingers up one of his best friend's ass.

"I kicked the shit out of him after I found out he filmed us," Bucky remembered fondly.

"It became a moot point after we died a month or two later," Steve added. "But I'm glad he kept it."

"Me too. It's something tangible."

"About who we were then."

Tony looked at the pair, sitting close on the couch. Bucky had his head on Steve's shoulder and his metal hand on his thigh. Steve sighed and ran his hand through his modern PR approved haircut.

"I'll have JARVIS make you a digital copy. Just don't say I never did anything for you."

"Thanks, Tony," Steve said.

"Yeah, thanks."

"I still can't believe--"

"The Eiffel Tower! That's why he called it 'Trip to Paris'!" Bucky exclaimed.

Steve thought about it for a moment. "You're probably right," he agreed.

"Eiffel Tower? What are you--Oh! Gross! Which one of you--do I even want to know?"

"Me," Steve said with a laugh. "I don't think Buck or Howard would tolerate their balls touching. It was my idea."

Tony made a retching sound. "You may have the world fooled, Cap, but not me."

"No one will ever believe you," Bucky told him, and laughed.

Tony scoffed and left as Steve pushed Bucky back on the couch, but he dropped the disgusted act when he shut the door behind him.

If any two people ever deserved to be happy, it was Steve and Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go! The end! Fini! I hope you enjoyed it. I've loved writing it and reading your comments. Please, please, please come talk to me on my tumblr: nothingamonth.tumblr.com or stuckypuddles.tumblr.com (NSFW).
> 
> I'm working on a new shrinkyclinks thing in a modern setting, so stay tuned for that. New chapters of Taking It are in the works. Don't forget about me!
> 
> Love you all; see you later!


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